And So They Spoke
by blackkisbackk
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy is the love of my life... Or I thought he was until one day he told me that everything was too hard and he couldn't take it anymore. I thought we were forever, and now, pregnant with his child, I will never see him again. He burrowed himself into my soul, and then he destroyed me... until he came back. But how can I forgive him for the devastation he left behind?
1. Prologue

_Brief summary:_

_Rose thought that Scorpius Malfoy was the love of her life when she met him and fell in love with him while he was her new Potions professor at Hogwarts. They managed to survive everything life threw at them while they struggled to keep their love a secret. They survived, and when they did, they were happier than ever. Until he left her. Indefinitely. For over a year they had been enjoying a beautiful relationship that came with ups and downs, trials and triumphs. Until Scorpius told Rose he couldn't take it any more - that it was too complicated... that **she **was too complicated. But is that the real reason he left? _

_Now Scorpius has returned, and he wants Rose back. But can she forgive him for his destruction? Can she forgive him for making her love him so completely and then leaving misery in his wake? How can she forgive him when she barely survived the agony that he left behind? To complicate matters further, Rose no longer has just herself to look out for. The sequel to "Words Unspoken" will answer all of your unanswered questions. And we will learn that when you want something, you have to take it._

_Rated M for mature themes, language, and sexual content._

* * *

_A/N: Hello my dears! So here it is, the first chapter of the sequel to "Words Unspoken." For those who are seeing this for the first time, know that you *should* read "Words Unspoken" before you read this story. I suppose it can **maybe** stand alone, but there is a lot about the past that you will probably want to know. I will do a lot of recapping throughout the story, but if you want a sense of the characters and who they are, you'll need that background. That story is long, but it is WORTH IT, if I do say so myself._

_I will try to update pretty regularly. I want to have a chapter up once a week, but I don't want to make any promises! Go to my tumblr for previews and updates for the story (info on my profile page)._

_I am VERY excited for this story. I have so much up my sleeve, so please please please let me know what you think because I love hearing from all of you._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

_Sometimes in life challenges present themselves that are difficult for our minds to comprehend._

* * *

_July 31, 2025_

I had been challenged many times over the past couple years, and I had a feeling—five a half months pregnant with a baby by a man who wanted nothing—less than nothing—to do with me—that there were many more challenges to come in my near and distant future.

I was lying on my back on my bed, rubbing the barely there baby bump, and wondering what it would be like in fourteen weeks when I pushed this baby out from between my legs and welcomed a pink, screaming, tiny human into the world. I wondered what it would be like to cradle the pink, screaming, tiny human in my arms as his soft eyes—like his father's, I just knew they would be—stared up at me in wonder, trying to take in every new sight and sound and sensation that this strange new world brought upon. I wondered if the baby would have my hair or his, my freckles or his pale skin, my ears or his high cheekbones, my round nose or his pointed one, my mouth or his eyebrows.

I wondered what it would be like to experience all of that wonder alone.

_Alone_.

It had been three months, two weeks, four days, and about eleven hours since I had last seen or spoken to Scorpius Malfoy.

_God, I am so alone_.

The first month was the hardest. If I was on my deathbed, and anyone asked what the worst time in my life had been, I would give them two times: the night when I had to say goodbye to my father thinking that he was going to die from some unknown curse, and the month following my break up with Scorpius. For the first week, I had called and texted him incessantly, begging him to come back, begging him to just talk to me. _Begging_. I had gone to his apartment in London, I had gone to Hogwarts, I had gone to the Manor, but he had already gone to the States. There was no way for me to reach him, so I sent him owls, but each of them returned to me with the letters still tied to their feet and sad, fucking _pitying_, looks on their faces, like they knew what was in those letters and they knew I was alone.

_Utterly fucking alone._

After that it got easier. Slowly. Steadily. Very, _very_ slowly. It got better.

Sometimes it was hard to imagine. There were days when the pain was overwhelming and _crushing_ and unbearable and it felt like my head was going to explode and my legs were going to buckle and my whole body was going to give out because I couldn't take the unbelievable _weight_ that was my life.

Other times I felt light.

I was pregnant and I was happy about that. Yes, Scorpius wanted nothing to do with me, but I was going to have a fucking _baby_. I was going to push a new life out of my body and it was going to look at me and love me unconditionally with wide eyes that saw nothing in me but hope and wonder and joy and love. How cool was that? How fucking _beautiful_ was that?

I missed him.

Yes, of course, I missed him. I missed him so much I ached. I missed his smell most of all. I missed the way his neck smelled and the way I would inhale the scent like it was my life force whenever I would bury my face in his neck and take in as much of his scent as I could. I missed his strength. He could lift me up and toss me onto a bed like I weighed nothing. It made me feel feminine—a feeling I rarely ever experienced. I missed the strength of his arms around me. God, I missed how fucking _safe_ he made me feel—how in his arms, I just instinctively knew that everything was going to be okay. I missed being connected with him. I missed the way he felt when his body was coming over mine and the anticipation thick in my abdomen made me squirm as I would look up at him and know that any moment we were going to be inextricably, powerfully, _unbearably_ intertwined. And I was going to lose myself in the feel of him, hot, hard, strong, and—

I yelped and jolted up in my bed when I heard the sound of the buzzer to my flat sounding from the other room. With a groan and a hazy attempt to clear my head of the direction my thoughts had just been headed—a direction from which I had firmly steered clear for months—I got up and walked through my bedroom, through the sitting room, and to the intercom next to my door. With a sigh, I hit the "talk" button.

"Hello?"

"Rose, it's me. Buzz me up."

"Albus—"

"No complaints. Open the door. It's your goddamn birthday."

_My fucking birthday_, I thought as I hit the buzzer and opened my door for Albus to come in, and then I moved to flop down on my couch. I was nineteen fucking years old, and for all intents and purposes, I had a great life. My band and I had a fucking _record deal_. We weren't a household name, but we had _fans_. I was nineteen and people wanted to _know_ me. Or something, I don't know. If only they knew about the complete mess I had made of my life. Yeah. They wouldn't want to know me then.

"Rose—"

Albus cut himself off when he saw me sitting on the couch, sunken into the cushions, staring at his tall, lean frame standing in the doorway, with his eyes bright—the eyes that looked so much like his father's. He was holding a white box with a red ribbon tied around it in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"What?" I said snarkily, after he had stared at me with a strange look on his face for longer than I cared to deal with. "I showered today and I even fixed my hair. So what—"

"You look beautiful," he said, and he surprised me when his eyes began to glisten.

I gave him a look of complete and utter shock. "What the hell?"

He sucked in a breath. "Sorry," he said, shaking his head and moving into my kitchen to find a vase to put the flowers in. I heard him opening and closing cabinets and sniffing.

"Under the sink," I called out before standing up and walking to the bar that separated the kitchen from the rest of my flat. "What's your problem?" I asked him, his back turned to me as he turned on the faucet and began filling a vase he had found under my sink with water.

He put the flowers in the vase and turned around. "You're pregnant," he said, as he sat the vase down on my counter.

"Yes," I said with an eye roll. "What gave it away? My lack of ability to fit into this t-shirt? My enormous breasts?"

"You're glowing."

I gaped at him and then closed my mouth and just shook my head. "Jesus Christ, you sound like Hermione," I said. "I'm _glowing_? Really?"

Albus let out a shaky laugh and leaned forward on his elbows. "Sorry—I just—man, you're really, actually pregnant. I… I don't know."

I shook my head. "And you realized this… today?"

"I didn't notice you glowing until today?" he said with a smile and a shrug.

"Oh my god, stop saying that," I said as I stood up from the stool I was at and moved back to my couch.

"Have you eaten today?" Albus asked as he walked around and sat on the chair that sat at a right angle to my couch. I reached for the control and flipped on the television so I could flip through channels.

"My god, you _are_ Hermione. Yes, _mum_, I had fucking organic granola with _flaxseeds_ and fucking _soy milk_ this morning. Happy?"

Albus laughed and scooted the white box he had brought in front of me. "I wasn't scolding you," he said. "I brought you treats, and I wanted to make sure you could eat them."

I gave him a narrow-eyed look as I leaned forward and pulled the string on the ribbon around the white box and pushed it aside. "You're being so weird today," I said as I opened the box. Then I gasped. "Are these from—?"

"That place down the block, yes," he said with a grin.

I pulled out a cupcake from the box, pulled the wrapper down slightly and sank my teeth into it. My eyes fluttered shut and I sighed as I leaned back and took in all the incredible flavors of raspberry filling and perfect, sugary icing and the fluffiest yellow cake anyone has ever had.

"God, I love you," I said with a mouth full of cupcake.

"I hate when you talk with your mouth full."

"All this sugar is bad for the baby, you know."

"It's your birthday. You won't kill him." I hummed in response and Albus chuckled and took the remote control from my hands and began flipping through channels as I savored my birthday treat. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

I nodded, and Albus looked at me.

"Are you serious?"

I nodded again.

"Well?"

I shook my head.

"You're so annoying."

I grinned and nodded.

"Have you told Ron and Hermione?"

"No way," I said after I swallowed. "Hermione wants me to name them after her dead, great muggle uncle. His name was Bartholomew. As if."

"That could be a cute name," Albus said. "Little Barty."

"Hermione?" I said, giving him a look. "Is that you in there? Did you take polyjuice potion or something?"

Albus rolled his eyes at me. "She's excited for the dinner tonight."

I looked away and was suddenly very interested in my now empty cupcake wrapper.

"Rose," Albus said in a warning tone. I didn't look up. "You're going tonight no matter what you say."

I made a high-pitched whining sound. "Albus—"

"It's for _your_ birthday!" he said incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"But I'm _nineteen_. That's such a stupid birthday. Why—well, why should I celebrate—I have nothing to celebrate. And I'm _tired_. I'm… pregnant?" I tried, hoping that would be enough to get me out of the dinner that I was sure was going to make me miserable.

"Uh-uh, no way. You're not using that excuse. You're fucking five months pregnant. You're not about to burst—"

"Almost six months!" I interrupted indignantly.

"You're going to this dinner and that's that."

"But it's going to be so dumb—"

"_Dumb_? Really, are you five?"

"—and James isn't even going. So it's going to be me and you, our fucking _parents_, Lily, and Hugo—and ugh! Oh my god, is Hugo's god-awful girlfriend going to be there? Albus!" I whined.

Albus sighed, understanding my last point. He hated Hugo's new girlfriend just as much as I did, possibly more. She was always asking me questions about being pregnant—invasive and fucking inappropriate questions about cocoa butter and _gas_—and asking him questions about being gay—_invasive and fucking inappropriate_ questions about lube and public displays of affection in the muggle world.

"Yeah, she is bloody awful, isn't she?"

"What was he thinking, breaking up with Meg?"

"Well… I don't know," Albus shrugged. "Long distance is hard enough, but when one of you is at Hogwarts… it's nearly impossible."

"Yeah," I said with a scoff. "Tell me about it."

Albus looked at me, and when the realization of what he'd said dawned on him, a look of sympathy flooded his features. "Oh. I'm sorry, Rose."

I waved him off. "It's fine. I'm over it."

He scoffed. "No you're not. You—"

"Meg is just so fucking beautiful," I said quickly, desperately trying to divert the subject from the topic of my relationship with Scorpius. After crying for nearly two months, my new strategy was just to avoid, avoid, _avoid_. "I was always so jealous of her hair. Especially when she started to grow it out."

Albus rolled his eyes. "Why would you be jealous of _anyone_'s hair? Everyone envies your hair. You're so annoying."

"Did you come here to insult me on my birthday?" I said, leaning forward and snatching my remote control out of his hand so I could change the channel from whatever science channel Albus had landed on. I tuned in to one of my favorite reality shows about a group women who are trying to become actresses while they all live together in New York City. It was trash. But I loved it.

"Oh, shut up." He paused briefly. "Actually…"

I shot my head over to him, knowing that tone and knowing he was about to say something that I wasn't going to like. "What."

"I'm glad you brought up Meg…"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yeah?" I said slowly.

"I think you should—okay, she's been really bad since she and Hugo broke up," Albus started. "She's back to her old antics."

"And what 'antics' would those be?" I asked, holding up air quotations.

"Sleeping around, basically," Albus said casually. "She's heartbroken over Hugo."

"How do you know that?"

Albus sighed. "Not everyone dropped off the map after Hogwarts like you. She and Fergie are friends."

"Oh."

"Yeah, well, anyway, I think you should talk to her—"

I gaped, stunned. It was the absolute last thing I thought he would say. "_WHAT—"_

"Both of you handle break ups poorly—"

"—oh, thanks—"

"—and she needs someone to talk to who understands what she's going through."

"So, what then? You want us two _bitter sisters_ to sit around and drink red wine and talk about how terrible every man on earth is?"

"Well." He paused. "Yes. Sort of."

"Albus…" I sighed. I leaned up on the couch and put my elbows on my knees so I could put my face in my hands. Maybe he was right. Maybe I _could_ use someone to talk to that wasn't Albus because that was clearly what this was. He was over me. I couldn't say I blamed him. He was tired of me bitching about Scorpius and crying all the time and never wanting to leave my flat because as much as I lied to myself and everyone around me that I was over it—over _him_—I wasn't. And everyone knew it.

"I'm sorry I've been putting this burden on you," I said into my hands.

"Rose—"

"You're right," I continued. "I know I'm unbearable when I get broken up with. I know it's been hard on you and—"

"Rose, hey."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Albus leaned in toward me. "That's not what this is about. You're not a burden on me or on anyone. Look." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned in as he clasped his hands in front of him. "You deserve to be upset. You're pregnant, and the father isn't around, and you're scared and you're angry, and you _should_ be," he said emphatically. Then he paused. "But I… I think…" He sighed. "I think maybe it would help to talk to someone who… _gets it_." He put a hand on my knee, and I finally took my hands away from my face and looked at him. He smiled at the pout I was wearing. "I'm here for you, I am. Really. But I think if you and Meg were to talk, you could help each other. More than I can help you."

There was a long silence and then I said, "Okay."

"Okay?"

Our eyes met and I nodded. "I'll talk to her."

"Okay," Albus sighed with a grin. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," I said as I leaned back and rubbed my stomach briefly before letting my hands settle there. "Anyway." Albus took the remote from me again and leaned back in his chair so he could flip through the channels. I rolled my eyes, but didn't stop him.

"James is going tonight, by the way. He called me earlier."

"Oh, great. He didn't call me, even though it _is_ my birthday."

"Well, he wanted to surprise you, but I figured it would give you incentive to go."

"Ugh. Fine. Well, I'm bringing Ainsley then."

"Oh. Okay." Albus chuckled a bit with a shrug. "Why, though, I thought you wanted to keep it small?"

"I do. But if James is going, I'm going to take this opportunity to get him and Ainsley together again. It's perfect timing. Ainsley broke up with Otto about a month ago, and James isn't currently shagging anyone." Albus gave me a look, and I put my hands up. "Hey, if I'm going, I want to have fun. And it just so happens that I have fun when I'm setting up people who clearly belong together."

Albus shook his head. "Whatever."

"You're bringing Fergie, right?"

"I'm going to try. He's been really busy with work lately—"

"Excuse me," I interjected. "If he wants my blessing when you two _inevitably_ want to get married, he's going to have to make some concessions. Tell him he's coming. Or else."

"Jesus." Albus laughed loudly. "Fine. I'll do what I can." He shook his head, still chuckling to himself and I withheld a smile.

There was a brief silence, and then Albus cleared his throat, his laughter fading. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew what that meant. A throat clear. We were about to get serious again. _God_. This was getting exhausting.

"Just spit it out."

"How did you—?"

"I know you better than you know yourself, Albus Severus. What is it?"

He shot me a look, and I gave him a fake smile. He hated his middle name. But he forewent yelling at me about it for his obvious preference that we have some kind of serious discussion. I braced myself for whatever god-awful thing it was this time. Then he bit the inside of his cheek. "Well… it's Guy."

I frowned. I hadn't expected that. Guy was the band's manager, given to us by the label, Magic Wand Records. He was tall and dark and sexy and French and covered in tattoos, and they way he said _"It's pronounced GEE,"_ sometimes made me shiver. "What about him?"

"I talked to him about you wanting to postpone the release of the new album…" Albus kept his eyes firmly on the television set. "He was not happy."

I put my hands underneath me to adjust so I could sit up a bit straighter, in preparation for this discussion. I immediately felt the beginnings of anger and frustration creeping up my spine. I breathed in deeply. Hermione was insistent that I not let things bother me. According to her, the _negative energy affects the baby_. Fine. "Did you explain to him that the song he wants so desperately isn't ready?" I said with forced calm.

"He says it is."

I shook my head quickly. "No. It isn't," I snapped. Then I blinked slowly and exhaled through my nose. When I spoke again, my tone was more even, albeit tense. "I don't understand what he doesn't get about that. He's supposed to be our manager. He's supposed to—"

"He _is_ our manager, yes, but he works for the label," Albus said evenly, diplomatically. His calm only served to anger me more. "They want the album to drop next week, and they don't want to wait."

"Al—"

"Rose, we've already postponed _twice_. The song is ready. What more do you want to do to it?"

I took a deep breath and then exhaled as slowly as I could in an attempt to reign in the anger that so desperately wanted to burst forth. Albus, Guy, _the label_—they didn't understand. They didn't know what that song meant to me, and they didn't understand that it had to be perfect. They didn't understand that it was a part of me—part of my _soul_—and if it was on that album and it was anything less than perfect, it would kill me.

I clenched my jaw.

Shortly after I had broken up with Scorpius, I had thrown myself into writing. Thoroughly and absolutely, needing something to distract me from my thoughts—needing something to occupy my time other than crying into my pillow all day and all night long.

The label had been talking about a new album for months, and I was so torn apart that I knew I had to find an outlet. I had been in the studio one afternoon, and I had been trying to think, trying to write, trying to do anything but loathe myself so _severely_, but the pain had overwhelmed me. I cried while sitting in the recording booth, my acoustic in my hand, and I thought of all the reasons why I hated Scorpius and I hated myself. And then I grabbed a pen and I wrote it all down.

I had written the song in record time.

It was about pain. Suffering. _Heartbreak_. And despite how horrible I had felt when I wrote it, it had felt so good to sing it, to _feel_ it. I had been holding everything inside for weeks, but in that moment, it was the first time that I felt even slightly better. I felt like I could say what I wanted to say and feel how I wanted to feel. I felt in control for the first time since he'd left me.

It wasn't until I had finished that I had realized that Guy was listening, watching me from outside. He had walked in, told me how beautiful it was, and insisted that it go on the new album. That was the first time we had postponed. After tweaking the song and beating it to death, I had begged for a second postponement. Because Albus had explained that I was going through a break up—with fucking _pregnancy hormones_ on top of it—and because Guy knew I was having a hard time, Guy talked to the label, and they gave the okay. Now, the album was supposed to drop in a week, and I just wasn't ready.

I didn't know if I could handle that song being anywhere but beating inside my own heart.

"Albus, it has to be perfect," I said finally.

Albus gave me a sympathetic but supportive look. "It is."

"No, it's—"

"Rose," he said firmly, stopping me. "That song is the most beautiful and heart wrenching song you have ever written. It gives me chills every time I hear it. If you do anything else to it, you'll destroy it."

I took a shaky breath, and after a long pause, I spoke. "Fine. I'll call him tomorrow and tell him we're all set to release."

Albus grinned broadly. "Wonderful."

"But if it's not ready, I'm going to complain to you for months."

"Okay, I should probably quit while I'm ahead, but there's something else," Albus said, ignoring my last statement, as he was wont to do when I was acting like a fussy baby. "He wants us to go on tour soon after the baby is born."

"What?" I gave him an incredulous look. "Is he serious? Are _you_ serious?"

"He said he could wait six weeks."

"Oh, how fucking kind of him. Let me get this straight. He wants me to leave my _newborn baby_ after six weeks so I can go on a tour around Europe."

"He said you can bring the baby," Albus suggested hesitantly.

I gaped at him. "Wow, how _generous_. Yes, let me bring my newborn on a fucking rock and roll tour."

"You act like we're shooting up heroin and banging prostitutes. I have a serious boyfriend. Nate is about to get married, and—"

"And Lysander _does_ practically bang prostitutes."

"We'll establish ground rules."

"Albus—"

"You don't have to decide now," Albus said quickly. "We can work it out."

I narrowed my eyes at him and sank into my couch a bit. We fell into silence as I contemplated that angry talk I was going to have to have with my manager. He always did shit like this. He was tall and gorgeous and looked like a rock star and he had his stupid sexy French accent, and so he was used to people obeying his every whim. Well, I wasn't going to let him or the label bully me into doing something I didn't want to do, no matter what. I was exhausted. I was tired of _fighting_ and begging and pleading, and I just wanted to rest. I needed a fucking break from my life. Just five minutes to sit alone and not worry about my band or Scorpius or pissing off Guy or the impending birth of the fucking _fetus_ growing inside me. Just five minutes to forget all of it. And I could be happy.

No one understood. Not my parents, not Albus, not anyone. They didn't understand the torture that I faced knowing that Scorpius and I were done for good. Forever. _Indefinitely_. It had been over three excruciating months, and no one understood the weight on my shoulders—the unbearable fucking pressure that felt like there was just a thousand pounds hanging on my back and trying to claw its way up to my brain. No one understood how it felt to know that the one person you know is the perfect one for you is gone forever.

"Scorpius is coming back."

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Albus's quiet, tentative voice.

I couldn't have heard him correctly. My face fell. I had to be in shock. There was absolutely no way I was hearing what I was hearing. Scorpius was gone. He was off living a happy life in America. The perfect one for me was gone forever. Of course he wasn't coming back. He was _gone_. Indefinitely.

Indefinitely _indefinitely_ _INDEFINITELY_.

No, that wasn't right. It _couldn't_ be. And how was Albus just saying this so casually—like he didn't realize the agony that simple sentence was causing me?

"Mum ran into Astoria in Diagon Alley."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't think. He was gone. He wasn't coming back. No one understood, and now Albus was _lying_ to me or he was misinformed or—

"She said she didn't know for how long or when exactly, but he's coming back. I just… thought you should know."

I could feel my breath coming fast. I could feel my vision blurring. Albus was saying something, but I couldn't hear him.

Then I felt a hand on my back, and I realized I was bent forward and my head was between my legs, and I was crying, and then Albus's arms were around me and I was _fine._

_I'm fine. _

_He's coming back._

_Scorpius is coming back. _

_And I am fine._

* * *

Later that night, Albus was walking me up the path that led to the front steps of my parents' home on Godric's Landing, a quiet street in Godric's Hollow on which both Albus's parents and my parents lived.

I loved this street. I could remember growing up here. As we walked up the path, I could see a scene from the past: a small, red-headed girl with too many freckles, chasing after a boy with black hair and bright green eyes who was holding a red, round ball. They had broomsticks in their hands, but had clearly dismounted them for the sake of running through the yard after each other instead.

I smiled, remembering that I adored Albus even then. He was only a few months older than me, but I had always looked up to him like an older brother and loved spending time with him.

I glanced over at him. He looked simply dashing in the silver button down underneath his two-piece suit. He had foregone a tie, so the top button was open. The dark colors made his eyes stand out even more than they normally did. I was wearing a floral dress with short sleeves and v-neck that my mother had purchased for me the day we had gone out shopping and I told her I was pregnant.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" I asked with a sigh when Albus's hand went to the knob of the door.

"Stop being so dramatic," Albus said with an eye roll as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"SURPRISE!"

I froze.

"Remember that we're your family and we love you," Albus whispered to me as soon as we stepped over the threshold and I was met with a swarm of at least thirty smiling faces who all wanted to greet me and hug me and wish me a happy birthday.

"Albus," I growled under my breath.

He gave me a sheepish smile and slithered away to where I saw Fergie smiling and standing in the corner. He waved in my direction and I glared at him. I saw him laughing before I was accosted by the rest of my family.

_I'm going to kill him_.

My mother was the first to reach me.

"I know you said you didn't want a party—"

"—Yes, I did say that—"

"—but I couldn't resist."

"Hermione—"

"You've been so sad for so long," she said as she hugged me tightly and I felt my chest clench. "I thought this might help."

Hours later, it actually turned out that she was right. I had forgotten, in my grief, that it wasn't healthy for me to be holed up alone with my thoughts and my angst—I needed to be around people. I needed to be around _love_. And that was exactly what I was getting that night.

After I had talked to everyone individually and everyone had wished me a happy birthday, I was standing with my old friend from Hogwarts, Ainsley Dale, a pretty, thin, tall woman with long blonde hair and honey brown eyes, while eating one of the mini-sandwiches that my mother had made for the occasion. She was sipping a dark liquid out of a small tumbler, which I assumed was Albus's secret stash of muggle scotch that he brought for just such family gatherings.

There was a lull in our conversation, and I swallowed.

"So, James is single."

Ainsley choked on her drink, and I smiled and reached down toward the end table and handed her a napkin.

She dabbed her mouth and looked at me. "Why should I care?" she asked when she stopped coughing, her voice hoarse.

"Because you've clearly been in love with him since we were fourth years, and he's hardly ever single so you have to grab him while you have the chance."

"Been there, done that, remember?"

I shrugged. "I have a theory—"

"—I don't want to hear it—"

"—that the reason James never keeps girls for long is because—"

"—stop, Rose—"

"—is because he hasn't found anyone as good as you."

Ainsley sighed and paused. I waited for her response, trying to bite back a grin. She was wearing a sleeveless, red lace dress that was tight on her cleavage and then flared out below that. She was also wearing four-inch red heels that made her long legs look even longer. She looked stunning as always, and I had noticed James sneaking glances at her all night.

"I can't put myself through it," she finally said with a shrug.

I refused to back down that easily. "And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes you do. There's another reason."

"You know how he is," she insisted.

"Do I?" I said innocently.

"Oh, shut up, Rose. Your cousin will _never_ settle down. He loves dating—if you can even call it that—dating any woman who will have him, and I'm not going to be another one he just dates, shags, and then throws out. I already did it once and I won't do it again."

I frowned. "It was four years ago."

"I don't care." Ainsley crossed her arms.

"You two are soul mates," I said matter-of-factly. I popped the last piece of the mini-sandwich into my mouth. "No matter what you say."

"Have you decided on a name yet?"

"Nice try, Dale," I said. "Look, you ditched stupid _Otto_, and James has been single for two months—longer than he ever has. It is perfect timing. I know you think he's going to ditch you, but I think he's changed."

There was a long pause. "God, he does look bloody hot tonight," she said.

I made a face and followed her line of sight to where James was standing with Fergie and Albus, telling a story that was making Fergie laugh and Albus scowl. When Albus caught my eye, he nearly sagged with relief. Without a word he walked away from Fergie and James and headed in our direction.

"Is James telling embarrassing stories about you?" I said in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up," Albus huffed. He looked at Ainsley. "When are you going to get my brother away from my boyfriend and shag him into distraction?"

"Will you two cut it out! I'm not getting with James," Ainsley hissed. "Period."

"She was just saying how hot he was before you came over," I said.

Albus's eyes shot up to his hairline. "Yeah," he said, turning to me. "We are definitely going to be playing matchmaker."


	2. Sins of the Father

_A/N: Hey y'all! First, thanks to people who reviewed! You're all rockstars. Second, this chapter is different. I'm not going to say much more than that, but just know that it's "different." It provides some much needed back story into Scorpius's motivations (although there is still some explanation that will come soon!). We get back to all the "normal" in the next chapter, which I should have up fairly soon. I graduated law school today so MY FREE TIME IS VAST FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS. I plan on doing nothing but reading and writing. So enjoy! _

* * *

**Chapter 2**: **Sins of the Father**

_When these challenges present themselves, sometimes we know that we are not equipped to withstand those challenges._

_Norway_, _1008 a.d._

A gale of wind howled as it hit wildly up against the wooden door of the tavern. The door shook on its frame, making the wood clatter vociferously as the rain fell in fat, heavy droplets onto the road outside. Muddy puddles were forming everywhere they could, seeping into any crack, crevice, or cavity in the road and creating tiny pools that glowed from the light leaking out from inside the three-story wooden building.

A man was walking up the road, heavily cloaked in a black vestment that was lined with fur. His hood was drawn up over his head in attempt to block out the rain that was being slanted toward him due to the force of the tempestuous wind, and his heavy boots splashed into the shining puddles as he approached the door of the tavern.

When the door to the tavern opened and the man pushed his way inside, he took down his hood and shook out his long blonde hair to reveal a strikingly handsome face with sharp angles—a pointed nose, high cheekbones, and a strong jaw that ran in his family. After he had sufficiently shaken the water out of his hair, he looked up, and all of the faces around him broke out into grins and cheers.

"HEY!" they all chimed.

"Hey!" the man responded, grinning broadly. All the voices spoke in heavily accented Old Norwegian.

After greeting the rest of the men in the tavern, the man turned and removed his cloak and placed it over a chair so that it could dry. As he walked toward a group of men in the far corner, most of the eyes of the few women in the room turned to him as his herculean, masculine, muscular frame seemed to glide across the room. Underneath his cloak, he was wearing a loose white tunic tucked into a pair of light brown breeches, which were tucked into his heavy boots. Although you could not see the outline of his torso, it was still easy to see the way the breeches hugged his lean hips and the way his arms—muscled with the force of physical labor—extended from broad shoulders.

He pushed his long hair out of his face before he swung a chair around and straddled it, as he immediately began talking to the men around him.

"Cepheus, where have you been?" A short, yet muscled, man asked the blonde man who had just taken a seat next to him. "We haven't seen you around in ages."

"I've been around, my friend," the attractive man—called Cepheus—said as he clapped the man on the back.

"I'll bet you have," another man called out, making the other men around hoot and howl.

Cepheus narrowed his eyes at the man who had yelled, although he was attempting to suppress a grin. "What's it to you, Finn?"

The man who had called out just bellowed with laughter and ordered the woman at the bar to bring them a round of drinks.

"I haven't been far off, Jakob," Cepheus said, quieter, to the man sitting next to him. "I've been working a bit with my father."

"And chasing women," Jakob said with a sly smirk.

"Of course, of course," Cepheus said, looking equally sly, a sideways smirk gracing his handsome face. "Always chasing women."

"Speaking of, there are some fine ones here tonight."

Cepheus looked around the tavern with a skeptical gaze. His idea of a fine woman and Jakob's idea of a fine woman had always differed. "I see a few hags. Other than that—"

But then, a woman sitting on her own at a small table in the corner opposite them caught Cepheus's eye. She had the most beautiful red hair he had ever seen, flowing down to her waist in waves in front of and behind her. She was wearing the fur of an animal—_one that she had skinned herself?_ Cepheus thought to himself. The thought made him shiver and he felt the tremor all the way down and in between his legs. She had striking features other than her hair—pale, perfect, porcelain skin, and large, catlike eyes that he desperately wanted to get closer to in order to see the color. He somehow simply _knew_ the color would be entrancing.

Jakob looked over his shoulder and then turned back to Cepheus with a smirk. "Ah," he said. "I knew you would find someone to chase tonight."

Cepheus ignored him and stood up from the chair he had just occupied, swinging his leg over and turning to walk toward the woman in the corner.

She looked up when she could sense him approaching and her eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of him. She took a large swig from the tankard in front of her and slammed it down as he sat down at the empty chair opposite her at the small table. He swung it around in a similar fashion as he had done the last chair he had been in, and sat down as close as he could to her. He flashed a winning smile at her and bent his arms on the back of the chair so that his already impressive biceps were more on display—for her.

"I'm not interested," she said at the same time that Cepheus said, "Blue. I knew it."

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Your eyes," he said sotfly. She gave him a look as if he was mad, and Cepheus laughed—a deep, rolling laugh that usually made women swoon. "I saw you from over there"—he jerked his head toward the table he had been sitting at earlier, where roughly half of the men were openly staring in their direction—"and I wondered what color your eyes were. They're blue. Like I expected."

"Hm," the woman replied shortly. "Well, whatever reason you came over here for, I'm not interested."

She spoke in the same Old Norwegian tongue that all the other people in the bar spoke, but her accent was different. It made Cepheus curious.

"Where are you from?" Cepheus asked, ignoring her previous statement.

"I said I'm not—"

"Because I've never seen you here before," Cepheus went on. "And your accent… I can tell you aren't from around here."

"I—"

"And since you seem very keen to get me away from you and your accent is much more refined than any of the scoundrels in here, I would say you're… upper class," he suggested. He saw her stiffen, but she didn't respond, and he knew instantly that he was close to figuring her out, to figuring out whatever she was trying to hide. Cepheus had a way of figuring people out—he always had—especially when it came to women he was interested in. And he was certainly interested in the one sitting before him.

Tonight, he would have her, he knew that. Because any time Cepheus put his mind to something, he achieved it. It was what had made him a great warrior years earlier, and it was what made him successfully help his father run their manor and all of the people who helped operate it.

Cepheus, too, came from an upper class family. It clearly was not as upper class as the woman sitting before him, but he was wealthy. The men he met here—many of them worked and lived on his father's land, and they adored Cepheus in the same way they adored his father, and his father's father. The manor had been in the family for centuries, and when his father decided to take his mother to a house on the edge of the land and live out the rest of his life in peace, Cepheus would take over.

The only problem was that Cepheus needed an heir. He was an only child. His mother had struggled in his childbirth and nearly died from the experience, and the local woman who had delivered him told his mother she would never bear another child. According to his father, his mother had been devastated, and as a result, all of the responsibility lied on his shoulders—his responsibility to the generations of his family that had come before him; the responsibility to maintain the land that been a Malfoy stronghold for centuries.

Malfoy was a name that carried weight in this part of the country. It was a name that was likewise feared and respected. It was Cepheus Malfoy's responsibility to make sure that did not change.

Yes, he needed an heir. That was a problem. But the other problem was that Cepheus liked women. In fact, he loved women. It didn't matter who they were or where they came from, if he saw a beautiful woman, he wanted her, and almost always, he would have her. It saddened his mother and frustrated his father that Cepheus was well beyond the years when he should have formed a union with a woman and yet he still spent his time bedding any beauty that he came upon.

But, dammit, he couldn't help himself. He was like a man who sought out fine wine. He knew what he wanted, and he loved expanding his palette. And he hadn't yet found a wine—or a woman, rather—who had made him think that he didn't need to try another for the rest of his life. So he had to keep sampling.

Cepheus knew the woman before him was on the run—he had seen it before, and he knew he would see it again. Women from wealthy, upper class families, running from the arranged political marriages and the life of responsibility of bearing children for the men they were tied to for life. These women would run north, and many of them stopped here, because it was the only tavern for miles, and it happened to also have lodging. It was a haven for strays and runaways.

"I would guess… you're on the run." The woman's jaw clenched, and Cepheus knew he had struck gold. "But from who?" He faked as if he was thinking hard. "Not the law, no, you don't seem the type." She glared at him. "No, you seem like the kind of woman who wants more out of life. You don't want to be tied down to the life your… _father_ wants to give you. So you're trying to escape, and find a place where no one knows who you are and you can live the life you want, not the life someone else wants for you. Am I close?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. She then crossed one leg over the other, and when she did, Cepheus had to hold in a gasp. Under her fur, she was clearly wearing some type of gown—white, from what he could see—and there was a slit right up the middle that caused her to reveal her milky leg when she lifted it. It was smooth—no hair—and that was something only _very_ upper class women were able to do for themselves. Clearly, this woman was more than what Cepheus even thought she was.

"I have a question for you…?"

"Cepheus," he filled in the unspoken question.

"Cepheus," she said. He liked the sound of his name coming from her lips. He wanted to hear it again, only not here, not now, but somewhere dark, private, and with the two of them connected beyond what either of them could take. "Does this… _trick_… work on all the women who come in here?"

He arched an eyebrow, and she rolled her beautiful blue eyes, making him smirk. "See, because from what _I_ can see about _you_, you like to bed many women—from the stares we're getting from the women in here, I would guess every woman in here has belonged to you at some point. You seem to me to be a _boy_—a boy pretending to be a man, living off the hard work his father has done, and not wanting to accept the responsibility that is bound to you. Am _I_ close?" she said in a silky voice, throwing his words from earlier back at him.

Cepheus tried not to rise to her words. He knew she was only saying this to try and rankle, but that didn't change that the words had struck him in a way he didn't like. But somehow… he didn't understand it, but they sounded good coming from her, and suddenly he realized that he wanted her even more.

So, he leaned forward and put a large hand on her exposed knee. His thumb began to run small circles on the side of it, and he tried to suppress the flare of triumph when he saw her shiver. "You don't know me…?"

She bit the corner of her lip, but shook her head, refusing to offer her name. He glanced down at her mouth, and then back up at her eyes, which were hooded as she tried to contain whatever her true thoughts and feelings were.

"Well, madam, you don't know me. I _am_ a man. More of a man than you could possibly imagine," he said quietly, _suggestively_. "I work on my father's land. These men"—he gestured to the men sitting behind him but didn't take his eyes from hers—"work on his land. They respect him. They respect me. I don't live off of his hard work, I contribute to it. I've fought wars, and yes, I've bedded women, but don't be jealous, love, it's none of the women here. You see, I don't shit where I eat. And I also thrive on beauty, which, you can see, is clearly lacking here. That is,"—the corner of his mouth lifted—"until I saw you."

"You're a pig."

Cepheus laughed. "Maybe. But I'm a pig who knows what—or _who_, rather—he wants."

His hand was still on her knee, and both of them were clearly conscious of it.

After a long, pregnant pause, Cepheus stood up. "I'm sorry if I offended you." He stooped a bit and brought her hand up to his lips. "It was a pleasure making your acquaintance." He paused. "I'll dream of you."

He turned to go, and right when he was sure he had lost, he heard a soft sound.

"Eydís."

Cepheus turned back and raised his brow in question. "Pardon?"

"My name. It's Eydís."

He smiled. "That's a beautiful name. Nice to meet you, Eydís."

He turned again to go, but he heard her sigh.

"Don't go," she said, sounding resigned. Cepheus had to withhold the wail of triumph he desperately wanted to release. He turned back to her. She smiled. It was the first time she had smiled at him since he had spoken to her, and in that moment, he became determined that he would do everything in his power as long as he knew her to make her smile like that. "I'm sorry I was rude. Please sit. I'll buy you a drink and apologize."

"No need," Cepheus said, waving at the woman behind the bar and flashing her the signal for "two." She nodded and went to making two of a special drink that Cepheus always ordered. "I'll get us drinks. I'm a regular here. She knows my order." Eydís arched an eyebrow, and he laughed. "I'm not trying to show my feathers, I just like what I get, and she knows me."

"You haven't bedded her?" she asked innocently as she took a sip from the tankard in front of her. Cepheus looked at her, eyes widened in shock, and when she looked up at him through her lashes with mischief in her eyes, Cepheus knew he had won. She would be his.

* * *

"Gods above, Cepheus, don't stop."

Hours later, after many drinks, stories, and laughs shared between Cepheus and Eydís, she had looked at him, face flushed with mirth and drink, and whispered that she wanted him to come back to her room. He had nearly leapt up from the table in excitement.

Now, they were in the bed she had rented for the night, all of her clothes were gone, but Cepheus was still dressed in his tunic and breeches. He had kicked off his boots, and she had ripped open his tunic, but other than that, everything remained on his sculpted body.

Her red hair was fanned out on the white sheets, and the white dress she had worn underneath her cloak was in shreds on the floor near the door where he had ripped it off as soon as they had stepped inside, while the cloak rested in a heap next to it.

Now, Cepheus's head was buried between her legs, and she was writhing beneath him, gasping out curses as her hands held tight onto his long, blonde hair. Cepheus was holding open the lips of her sex so that he could have easy access to the bundle of nerves beneath her thick, red curls.

When his tongue flicked at her in a particularly desirable manner, she moaned breathily and arched off the bed. Her grip on his hair tightened, and then he began to suck and she began trembling violently.

"Cepheus," she moaned loudly. "Cephus, gods, yes—ah—I've never—_fuck_, Cepheus."

And then her breath caught and her whole body stiffened. Then she cried out loudly as her release came on her hard and fast. Cepheus looked up at her, and her hands left his hair and moved to cover her face as she began to shake violently, while he continued to lick her and prolong her pleasure.

"Look at me," he said, his voice a harsh command. She immediately moved her hands and looked deep into his gray eyes. Then, deliberately, he wiped his mouth and moved up next to her so he could gather her in his arms. She spooned against him, her back pressed to his front, and he knew she could feel his desire for her—he had never been that hard before. It was nearly painful, but he wanted to hold her. He wanted her to know that he was here, and the pleasure she had gotten was from _him_, and that he wanted her, and that she was safe. He held her more tightly when he realized she was still trembling.

After a long silence with just their breath filling up the room, she spoke.

"Cepheus," she said quietly.

"Eydís," he replied.

"I've never done that before."

"I thought not," he said, smirking. "No son of a duke would ever be caught dead with his head between a woman's legs. Selfish boys."

Eydís laughed softly, and Cepheus closed his eyes and let the sound wash over him. He pulled her even closer against him.

Another silence lapsed, and Cepheus began to squirm a bit, as the length between his legs refused to come down. Again, Eydís broke the silence.

"Cepheus," she said. Her voice sounded husky and full of want. His length twitched.

"Yes, love?"

"I want you," she said.

There were several moments of silence before she spoke again. Her voice was a faint whisper when she spoke did.

"I want… _you_…" she licked her lips. "Inside me."

Cepheus clenched his jaw so hard that he was afraid his teeth might shatter. Eydís then turned in his arms so that her breasts were rubbing against his chest. He wanted to cry, he was so hard.

"I…"

"Yes? What is it, love?" his voice was a harsh rasp.

"I said I had never done"—she looked down between them—"_that_ before."

"Yes?"

"I've never… I've never done _anything_ before."

She was killing him. She was absolutely torturing him and ripping him from the inside out. "Eydís…"

"But I want to," she said quickly, her voice breathy. "I want you."

He clenched his jaw. He had to keep his control. He had to understand what this meant for him—for them—for _her_. He sighed. "I shouldn't…"

Her chin quivered, and the sight nearly broke his heart. "I… You were right about me, you know," she whispered. Cepheus was entranced by her, by the words coming out of her mouth, by the way she spoke in beautiful, flowing sentences. He couldn't look away from her eyes. He was already falling for her so desperately, but he had to hold on. He had to keep his resolve. He had had enough of her—he shouldn't—he _couldn't_—have more. "I'm running away, trying to escape the life I don't want." She paused and looked over her shoulder at the door with a look of melancholy. "Do you see that dress?"

Cepheus looked over her shoulder at the white heap on the floor. "Yes." That was all he could say.

"That was my wedding dress," she said gently, hesitantly. "I was supposed to get married a few days ago, but…" She looked up into his eyes, and his heart clenched when he saw her eyes were filled with tears. "I couldn't do it. I didn't want him. I didn't want that life." She took a deep breath. "So I ran."

Then Eydís pulled out of his arms so she could push him onto his back. Her sudden show of force had Cepheus getting—if it was even possible—harder. She climbed over him and straddled his thighs and began to unlace his breeches. "But I want you," she said. "I want _this_. Now." She shimmied down his legs and pulled off his breeches before climbing back onto him. He couldn't stop anything she was doing. He didn't have that power over himself. So he just watched her. It was all he could bear to do. "I'm not asking you for forever. I know you don't want to be tied down—"

"Eydís." He tried to interrupt her. He tried to tell her that it wasn't until tonight—with her—when he had been laughing with her and drinking with her, when he had kissed her, when he had put his head between her legs—that he finally thought for the first time in his life that he didn't need another glass of wine, that this woman would be enough. Fear rippled through him. He had to keep his resolve.

"I just want now. Tonight." She looked into his eyes. "Please."

In one quick movement, Cepheus had flipped her over and pinned her beneath him. "Eydís," he said. "You don't know what you're asking." _Hold on, Cepheus_, he told himself. _Hold on_.

Her hands went in between them, and she ran them down his chest. He shivered.

"I know exactly what I'm asking."

"It will hurt." _Among other things_.

"I don't care."

"You'll never be pure for another man. Another duke's son."

"I don't _care_," she said more firmly. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "I already told you I don't want that life."

There was a long pause, and then Cepheus sighed. He knew his fear. He knew why he didn't want to go further than they had. He knew what was holding him back more than anything. He spoke softly as he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "I don't want you to regret me."

She looked up at him, her eyes sincere and full of so many emotions that he couldn't place. "I won't," she said. "I promise."

Then he whispered her name, his resolve crumbled, and for the rest of the night, they were both lost.

* * *

Cepheus blinked his eyes open and stretched his long limbs before he turned his head and saw Eydís lying on the bed beside him. The blanket was at her waist, exposing the pale, smooth skin of her back. Her hair was draped over her head, blocking her face from Cepheus's view. _I can't have that_, he thought, and he reached forward and brushed her fiery red hair back. She stirred a bit, but she didn't wake, and Cepheus was grateful for it. It gave him the chance to admire her beauty. She was truly perfect in every way. He had never seen a woman more beautiful in all the years of his life. He had never desired a woman the way he desired her.

It had been weeks. For weeks, she had been staying in the room at the inn in town where they had first met. Every day, Cepheus would return to his family's home and help his father run their manor, and every night he would come to this tavern and bury himself inside her.

He simply could not get enough of her. Every time he was with her, he became more desperate for her, for her body, for her soul, for everything.

Every night he would make love to her, and every night after they would stay up late in the night—talking and laughing, but always _touching—_he wanted more. He couldn't keep his hands off her. The talking always led to _more_, and he felt like he knew her more than he had ever known anyone. She was an angel in disguise.

But as he watched her, her breath coming evenly, her face soft and relaxed, he knew it couldn't last. He knew their life together was fleeting.

He loved her.

Cepheus knew that with every bit of the blood that ran through his body—that he loved Eydís. And he knew that she loved him. He could see it in the way her eyes would go soft whenever he walked into the tavern. He could see it in the way her body gravitated toward him—how she clung to him desperately—when he was inside her, when he was expressing _his_ love.

He wanted her. Forever. For the rest of his life.

And that was why he had to let her go.

Cepheus turned and sat up on the edge of the bed. He was naked, and his cock hung heavy and limp between his legs. He scrubbed his hands down his face, and then ran his hands through his shoulder-length blonde hair. He sighed and tried to clear his head. He would have to end it with Eydís, but he didn't know how. He didn't know how he could break the heart of the woman who had given him so much—more than anything he had ever had before.

She kept most of her life a secret. He _knew_ her and she knew him, but he didn't know where she _came from_. She wouldn't talk about her life in specific terms. She spoke of her parents and her sister, but that was all. But Cepheus knew she was ranked much more highly than him. He could see it in the way she walked and talked, in all her mannerisms. And she deserved more than the son of lord of a lowly manor in the northern lands. He loved her, and he refused to ruin her life more than he already had.

He couldn't just leave. She knew where he lived and she knew that this was a place he frequented with many people who knew him and his family. No, he would have to do something else. But what?

He was just about to stand up when he felt arms slide around his neck from behind and breasts press against his back. His cock twitched, and Eydís pressed her lips to the side of his neck.

"Good morning," she said huskily in her perfect, aristocratic Old Norwegian.

"Good morning," he said turning his head so he could find her lips. He felt his heart thump when she kissed him, the way it had in all the weeks that they had been together.

One of Eydís's warm hands slid down his chest and rubbed across. She was on her knees behind him, each on either side of his lean hips, and the full length of her torso and chest pressed against his back. The length between his legs was taking notice.

"I'm happy," she said quietly.

He turned to look at her, and she bent her head forward so she could meet his eyes.

"Me, too," he said.

"I want to be this happy forever." She leaned in and kissed his neck.

He sighed. "So do I," he said, and she had no idea how much he meant it.

There was a brief pause and she pulled back a bit so their eyes could meet. "I want to be with you," she whispered.

He frowned. "You are."

"No," she shook her head slightly and blinked twice. "Officially, I mean."

"Eydís."

She shifted, and before he could stop her, she was swung around on his lap, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and their faces inches apart. He immediately hardened, and she smiled.

"You love me," she said softly.

Their feelings for each other were obvious, but they had never spoken them aloud. Cepheus's heart was hammering in his chest and he gripped her hips.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Eydís bit the corner of her lip. "I love you," she said, trying to contain a broad smile. "I want to be yours," she said quietly. "Forever."

"Eydís—"

"We're in love," she interrupted before he could speak. "We're perfect for each other. What else is there?"

"You know there's more than that."

"I don't care about any of that," she said, shaking her head slightly. "You know that."

"You don't care about it now," he said, shaking his head. "Today. But one day, you might."

"I won't," she insisted, as she shifted her hips against him. She reached one hand between them and gripped his hard length. He jolted and his grip on her hips tightened. "I don't want anything more than you." She squeezed him slightly and he groaned. "And this."

"Eydís." This time her name wasn't a warning. It was a plea. She was breaking him.

Then she put him inside her, and they both groaned. He slid inside easily. She was wet and ready for him—she must have woken up from a dream about him—about this. He wanted her so badly it hurt. She shifted her hips against him so he could slide in all the way and she moaned softly as he gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.

"I'm yours," she whispered. Her voice was urgent. "I'll never love anyone like this. I never have, and I never will. I know you feel the same." She moved her hips back and forth against him. "Tell me you do," she said, her voice breathy. "Say you want me."

"Yes," he hissed out. "Of course I do."

"Then don't deny me, Cepheus," she breathed. "Take me. Make me yours." Her breath hitched as Cepheus moved his hips to meet her movements.

With a quick movement, he stood up, holding her against him. Eydís gasped at the sudden movement that made him go even deeper. Then he spun and they landed on the bed, with her on her back and him on top of her, her legs spread wide for him. He moved his hands so they could grip her wrists above her head. Then he moved in and out of her, slowly—_painfully_, _impossibly_ slowly.

"More," she moaned.

"You don't know what it means to ask for forever," he rasped, ignoring her plea, moving slowly.

"Yes"—she moaned—"I do." Her voice was a harsh, breathless cry.

"Let me take you to the manor," he said in a tight, controlled voice.

She dug her heels into his behind, silently begging him for more. She was so unbelievably wet. He moved so that he could slide almost all the way out, he would circle her entrance with his cock for a few seconds and then he could slowly sink deeply back in. With every movement, he could hear the wet, vulgar sounds their joining made. He was defiling her in every way, and if her head thrown back and her fluttering eyes were any indication, she loved it.

"You feel so good," she moaned. Her head was pressed into the mattress.

"Look at me," he said, his voice a hoarse command. Her eyes fluttered opened. He picked up the pace of his thrusts slightly. Her eyes were glazed with desire and he leaned in to kiss her. Their tongues joined immediately and he kissed her until they were both breathless.

When Cepheus pulled back, he looked at Eydís, and she begged him with her eyes. "Come to the manor," he said. "See my life, and then we can talk."

She was panting as she nodded. "Yes," she said. "Okay. Now enough talk. Fuck me."

He clenched his jaw and picked up his pace again. She was moaning loudly, continuously, her head thrashing on the pillow as Cepheus began to pound into her. He released her wrists and moved his hands to her knees so he could spread her out even more. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed above her head as she got lost in their love making—_Cepheus, more, harder, yes Cepheus, yes, yes, yes_—and begged him for more.

There was something different about this time. He could feel something between them—some tension some _magic_ that he hadn't felt before.

He slid deep, going as deep as he could, and then she stiffened beneath him and she was moaning his name over and over as she found her release, and only moments later, Cepheus spilled himself inside and pounded through his own release, simultaneously carrying hers on as long as he could.

He was trembling and he loved her and he knew he had to put a stop to all of it.

* * *

"_I have powers."_

_She had said those words to him. She had revealed her deepest secret, other than her past. _

_She could do magic._

_She was a witch._

_She was perfect. _

_In response, he had showed her what he could do. He had held his palm over a log in the fireplace in her room and watched it light only from the power of his hands. _

_She had gasped. _

_He had looked in her eyes. _

_They were truly perfect for each other. She was his soul mate. _

_But there was more than that. _

_He couldn't take away her future._

* * *

Cepheus knew she would find them.

After thinking long and hard about how he could save her, he found only one solution.

He knew she would find them. He had made sure of it.

It disgusted him—what he was doing. He could hardly keep himself hard as he thrust into the woman he had solicited for the job. He couldn't look at her. He stared at the wall she was up against as he pushed himself inside her.

He knew she would find them.

"_Cepheus._"

His eyes closed when he heard her voice. The woman he was inside of gasped. He pulled out of her and pulled up his trousers. He laced them up as the woman pulled down her skirts and fled.

"What—"

"I'm sorry, Eydís," he said, his voice emotionless, his eyes deadpan.

"_How could you!_" she screamed. Her fists were flying, she was screaming, he could hardly understand the words that she was saying as she tried to get her hands on him. His eyes were wide and tears were streaming down. He didn't speak—he couldn't speak—he had just ruined the most perfect thing in his life _for her own sake_ and he would never forgive himself. She slapped him. He knew he would never be happy without her. He knew there would never be anyone else. She slapped him again and screamed in his face as she sobbed. He only watched her and attempted to block some of her blows.

Finally she stopped.

Her face was red and streaked with tears. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot and she was shaking visibly. She stared at him long and hard.

"Why?" she finally asked, her voice hoarse from screaming.

He took a deep breath. "Because I wanted to."

She gaped at him and stared at him, her eyes wide and full of heartbreak and misunderstanding. She was confused. She thought he loved her. She wasn't wrong. She didn't understand and she never would. He wouldn't let her. It was for her own good.

"Go back home," he said quietly.

Her jaw clenched. Eydís straightened. She looked into his eyes long and hard.

"_Ego dilectionem tuam_," she whispered, her voice hard and vehement.

"Eydís." His brow furrowed in confusion.

"_Ego dilectionem tuam. Vobis. Filiis vestris._ _Nam et filii eorum. In aeternum._"

"What are you doing?" he asked as he felt panic.

"_Et volo, non amare._"

He felt his heart clench, and he bent over and clutched at his chest as he felt the pain.

"_Ego dilectionem tuam. In aeternum._"


	3. You Only Know What I Want You To

_A/N: Hi... Okay so I'm sorry everything is taking so long. I've been going through some personal stuff, but I should be back on track soon. This chapter is short, but I hope to have the next chapter up relatively quickly, so don't get too upset! This is a SCORPIUS CHAPTER SO GET EXCITED. _

_I know a lot of people want to know what the Latin means from the last chapter, and you will know, just not yet. It's a plot point that we'll get too in the not-too-distant future._

_Also, thank you so much to everyone who is sending me reviews and following/messaging me on tumblr. You all have been amazing, and you've kept me motivated. And I really really really appreciate all the congrats I've gotten about finishing law school. You guys are incredible. THANK YOU!_

_Lastly, as you may have seen on my tumblr a while back, Words Unspoken was nominated for an HPFANFICFANPOLL award. This is the first time any of my fics have been nominated for an award and I was like a giddy schoolchild when I found out. I called my mom and she was like, "...ok I don't get fanfiction so." KEWL, MOM. So anyway, thank you to whoever nominated my story. This is just a reminder to VOTE. I have found so many good fanfics over the years by reading stories from those nominations. Some of the writers are amazingly talented. I think the voting closes relatively soon, so head over to livejournal and cast a vote. And thanks again! _

* * *

**Chapter 3: You Only Know What I Want You To**

_We face these challenges and we become crippled with our fear, and our inability to withstand._

* * *

_October 13, 2025, 3:54am_

**Scorpius**

* * *

I was lying on my new bed in my new flat with my arms bent behind my head and my legs extended and crossed at the ankle. I was breathing slowly, deeply, my eyes open and staring at the fan on the ceiling that was spinning above me. The sight soothed me, and I felt relaxed for the first time in months. My breath was even, my heart beat steadily, and my mind was calm, not whirling with thoughts of how my life had gone so fucking wrong. The moon was bright. The city lights streamed into my window, and the moon gave everything an eerie, ghostly glow.

For the first time in six months, my shoulders didn't feel heavy with the weight of my mistakes, and my stomach didn't feel the knot of heartache and pain that created a burn that radiated throughout my entire body. For the first time in six months, I felt like I had a renewed sense of purpose. I knew exactly what I was doing, why I was doing it, and when it was going to be done. I didn't feel hopeless. I didn't feel entirely alone. I didn't feel like I would never again feel the happiness that I knew I was capable of feeling.

I felt that way because two weeks earlier, I had returned to England from America, my new job had set me up in this flat, and although I was still surrounded by moving boxes, my determination in discovering what I want was enough to allow me a feeling of relaxation.

I was going to get Rose back.

It had been five months, four weeks, one day, and approximately seven hours since I had seen or spoken to Rose Weasley.

It had been an agonizing six months.

I left her because I had to. I left her because I had no choice. I knew she didn't understand. I knew she wouldn't forgive me easily, and I knew that we would have to work, but I didn't care. A month ago, my new job had told me they wanted me back in England, and in that moment, I was determined I would get her back. I knew it was selfish. I knew I was going to have to ask her to do things that wouldn't give her the life she deserved, but I couldn't be selfless anymore. I had been selfless in letting her go—I did it _for her_—and as much as I was going to ruin her life by getting her back, I didn't care. I wanted her. I loved her. I never stopped. I never would. She was the only woman who would ever make me happy until the day I died. I knew that. And even if I was asking her to make decisions she shouldn't have to make, I didn't care. I _couldn't_ care. I wouldn't be without her any longer than I had to be. I couldn't.

I remembered what it had been like for the first month. I remembered arriving in America and crying like a girl for the first two weeks. I missed her so badly that it fucking _ached_. Because despite the problems we had had over the previous year while she had been on tour, I never imagined not being with her for the rest of my life. Before my father had explained things to me and before I had gotten this new job, I believed that Rose and I would fight out our problems over the past year, and then we would move forward. I didn't care how hard it was because even through the hard times, she still made me happier than I had ever been.

As time went on, it got easier. It still took _every fucking inch_ of my willpower not to call her—not to tell her that I was stupid and that I had fucked up and that I wanted her back. _Now_.

But it had still gotten easier. The weight had lifted marginally. I couldn't still taste her on my lips or smell her on my skin or remember the sound of her breathing as she slept next to me. After many months of experiencing all those memories, eventually, they became nothing but a dull ache in the back of my head, in the pit of my heart, instead of the pounding torture throughout every nerve ending that they had begun as.

Things had been different eight months ago. Eight months ago, I had seen her on Valentine's Day—I had made it through the nearly unbearable way my body had come alive when I had seen her for the first time in weeks. Eight months ago things had been perfect. I saw her again and the sight breathed new life into me. In that moment I knew everything would be okay because despite the hard times, I loved her.

I loved her, I needed her, I wanted her, I had to have her, and that was what mattered. That was what would get me through all of it.

I stood up from my bed and stretched my arms above my head. I heard some bones crack as I stretched my body, and with a heavy sigh, I then walked over to the wardrobe on the other side of my bedroom. The room was dark, but the city lights and the moonlight kept it illuminated enough for me to see. I pulled open the top drawer, which was one of the few areas in the flat that was already in its proper place. My socks and underpants were all folded neatly in their place. I reached my hand inside and felt around before my hand wrapped around what I was looking for.

A moment later, I pulled out a small, navy blue, velvet box. Then I snapped open the lid, and tried to ignore the horrible pang of regret that pulsated through my entire body—it was regret—_blinding_ regret—of what might have been, of the mistakes I knew I had made. Of the mistakes I was afraid I wouldn't be able to take back.

Inside the box was a large, square diamond set inside a gold band. It was a large diamond, but it was simple, and the light from the moon caught it, making it hauntingly beautiful. There were no frills, no unnecessary excessiveness. The moment I had seen the engagement ring at the muggle jewelry store, I knew it was perfect for Rose. The women behind the counter had gushed and expressed their good-natured jealousy of the woman I would soon give the ring to, and I had tried to suppress my glee as I imagined sliding the ring onto her finger and asking her to spend her life with me.

I bought the ring, and then I went to see my parents to tell them the good news.

It was then that my world had shattered. Crumbled beneath me and made me realize that the happiness that I thought I had was fleeting, that it would never be how I wanted it to be. It was a weight—a crushing, exhausting, excruciating weight—that hadn't left since that day.

It was then that my father had told me everything I had never wanted to hear. It was then that I realized I was going to ruin Rose's life. One way or another.

"God damn you, Cepheus," I growled as I snapped the ring box closed and shoved it back into my drawer.

I trudged into the kitchen, and when I arrived at my new marble kitchen island—a fixture my mother had _insisted_ upon—I flicked my wand at the kettle on my stove to boil water for tea that I hoped would soothe me and help me back to sleep, despite knowing full bloody well that it wouldn't. I was unable to sleep for thinking about Rose. I hadn't slept well in two weeks. _Well_. Truthfully I hadn't slept well in six months, but the last two weeks had found me sitting up in bed, wracked with nerves as I thought about how I would go about getting the love of my life back. Because I was going to get her back. I _had_ to get her back.

I walked over to the cupboard and opened it to pull out a mug—the only mug that I had yet unpacked—then I slammed the cupboard closed and opened another cupboard. I yanked out a box of tea bags, pulled out a bag, and then ripped open the package and tossed the bag into my mug. I slammed the cupboard closed again after putting the box of tea bags back inside. I could practically hear my mother scolding me gently_—"don't take it out on those cabinets, Scorpius. What did they do to you?"_

After I had poured a bit of milk into my tea, I leaned against the counter and sipped the chamomile. It did nothing to calm me. It did _nothing_ to soothe me.

I had worked so hard to relax myself and accept my fate since my father had told me about _everything_, and yet the reminder of the situation I was in had brought me back to the bitterness and anger I had grown so familiar with over the past eight months.

I wandered into my new expansive sitting room and sat onto the sofa that had been delivered the week previous. I sank into it and let my head fall back.

It was unfair. It was so bloody _unfair_ that this had happened to me. I had never done anything wrong. I treated my parents well. I treated my fellow humans well. I loved Rose. I did all I could for her. Yes, we had had some rough patches, but our love was real and pure and beautiful and it made me… God, it made me _better_. It made me the best version of myself. It made me _want_ to be the best version of myself.

And yet, my life had ended up like this. I was alone. I had left the one person who I loved beyond all measure, and it was fucking _unfair_.

I felt the anger build. I felt the frustration and the bitterness well up inside me, and just when I was about to lash out, I heard my mobile ringing in the other room.

I frowned and looked at the clock over the stove. _4:38_. _Who is calling me at four in the morning?_ I thought about ignoring it. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to close my eyes and forget I was apart of this unfair world. But I knew I couldn't. I knew I had fucking _responsibilities_ and a _life to live_—whatever the fuck that meant.

And so with an angry growl, I pushed myself up from the sofa, slammed my cup—_"What did that cup do to you, Scorpius?"_—onto the table in front of it, and went into my bedroom where I had left the phone. When I got to my bedside table, my frown deepened when I saw the name of a person reflected back at me that was absolutely the last person I expected to be getting a call from. My hand shook slightly when I answered.

"Hello?"

I listened to the voice on the other end, and as it spoke to me, I felt a chill go over my entire body. After listening to everything without uttering a word of response—without being _able_ to respond—I threw my phone across the room and ran to my closet. I threw on the first pair of shoes that I saw and then ran to my door. I tore my coat off the rack and threw it over my shoulders, and with a fear and confusion and _terror_ I hadn't experienced in all of my life, I ran out the door and into the night.


	4. I Know Everything You Don't Want Me To

**Chapter 4: I Know Everything You Don't Want Me To**

_We become afraid of our weaknesses and our humanness; we recognize how fragile we are, and we cannot bear it._

* * *

_I woke up and he was screaming.  
__I'd left him dreaming.  
__I roll over and shake him tightly.  
__And whisper "if they want you, oh, they're gonna have to fight me."_

_- Laura Marling_

* * *

_October 13, 2025, 2:46am_

"Ah!"

I sat bolt upright in my bed and clutched my stomach. A sharp pain—as if someone had stabbed me with a long, thin sword that they had dipped in fire—went shooting through my stomach. It was excruciating and it took all the breath out of my lungs. I tried to—It was difficult for me to sit up completely with my enormous pregnant belly, but I did what I could to attempt to suppress the pain.

The ache dulled momentarily and I relaxed only a bit, taking a deep breath, but then almost as soon as it went away, another searing pain shot through me and I cried out. I bit my lip as tears stung my eyes.

Something was wrong. My heart was racing, my skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, and the overlarge t-shirt that I had worn to bed was soaked through with my sweat. These weren't contractions, and I wasn't due for five more weeks. This was something else, and along with the pain that shot through me, there was also a shock of fear. _Something's wrong_.

My hands trembled as I smoothed them over my stomach. Another pang stabbed through me, and I released a choked sob as I curled into myself.

_Help. I need help._

With shaking hands and a foggy brain, I fumbled in the dark for the lamp beside my bed. I pulled the chain and light flooded the room. Then I reached for my mobile and dialed the person who I knew could get here the fastest, who I knew would answer my late night call.

The person on the other side answered in a groggy voice filled with sleep.

"Albus," I said in a voice that even I understood whispered and trembled with pain and fear. I didn't even recognize the sound of my own voice in my ears.

"Rose?" I could hear him shifting in his bed, his voice hoarse. "What time is it?"

"Albus, something's wrong," I said, ignoring his query. I gasped, and the tears began to fall. I covered my mouth in an attempt to hold in my emotions. The fear was becoming palpable, _unbearable_—my heart was pounding out of my chest—and a moment later, I was attacked with another shooting, burning pain, and I cried out.

"Rose," Albus said suddenly, his voice firmer and stronger and mildly panicked. "What's wrong? Rose—"

"I—Albus, I need you to come and take me to the hospital."

"St. Mungo's—"

"No, the muggle hospital we talked about." I paused as the pain faded once again. "Al—please—"

"I'm coming, Rosie, I'll be there—I'm com—Fergie wake up—Rose, I'll be there in two minutes. It'll be okay. It's okay."

A moment later, the line went dead, and I set my mobile back on my nightstand. With a wince, I slowly moved my legs and sat up in my bed with my legs hanging over the side. I reached down and ignored the pain that shot through me as I reached for the sweatpants in a heap on the floor. Gently I slid them on, and when I was finished I braced my hands on either side of me and cried. I was scared. I had never been more afraid in my life. _Something's wrong._ But it had to be okay. This baby—it was all I had—I wanted him so much. I wanted to hold him in my arms. I wanted to know him. I wanted to love him. As scared and terrified as I had been about being a mother, I wanted it more than anything. He was all I had—all I had _left_ of Scorpius. He had to be okay.

I rubbed my stomach. "You're okay, Pea Head," I said in a voice thick with emotion. "We're okay."

With a clenched jaw and grim determination, I leaned to my right on one arm and attempted to push myself up. Immediately, the blood left my head and it felt so light I knew I was going to collapse. I whimpered, and began to fall—my mind going dark, blank, except for _wrong_, _something's wrong_—and then suddenly I was caught by strong arms.

"I'm here, Rose. I'm here, you're okay."

I heard Albus's voice murmuring softly to me, but I couldn't focus.

"Wrong…" I tried to explain to Albus. "Al… Something's wrong."

My blue eyes met his green ones, and they were the last things I saw before everything went black.

* * *

"Rose."

I was moving.

I didn't know where I was, but I knew that I was moving. There were noises around me. The sound of voices, the sound of machinery, and the faint sound of my name being called.

"Rose."

Where was I? Why was I moving? How was I moving?

_Pain_.

There was pain. A lot of it. _God_, so much pain. It felt like someone kept stabbing me over and over in the stomach, but I was powerless to stop it. My body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Everything was too heavy. Everything hurt.

_Fear_.

There was also fear. I didn't know where it came from, but I knew—without knowing why—that I was afraid.

_Open your eyes_, I told myself. _Everything will be okay if I can just open my eyes._

I struggled—each of my eyelids felt like it was being weighed down by tiny invisible anchors, making it impossible for me to open my eyes and _see_—see why I was moving and why I was in pain and why I was afraid.

_Open your eyes_.

"Rose."

My eyes fluttered, and I immediately saw Scorpius. His eyes were beautiful and gray—they were just as I remembered them: intense, full of unsaid words, but also soft—for me, only for me.

"Scorpius."

"Rose." I felt someone or something squeeze my hand. "No, Rose, it's me, Al."

The gray eyes changed to green. Familiar. I felt safe looking into those eyes. Those were the eyes that had always been there for me.

"Al." My voice was hoarse. "Where am I? Why am I moving?"

"You're at the hospital."

Then I stopped moving. The pain returned, and I cried out loudly.

"Mr. Potter, we have to take her in now."

I heard voices, but I focused on Albus as panic seized me. He would help me. He would make everything okay. I knew he would. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking over me, at someone I couldn't see, but I just focused on him—his wild, black hair, the stubble on his jaw, the nose that belonged to Aunt Ginny and the eyes that belonged to Uncle Harry. Everything was going to be okay.

"Al."

"Shut up and let me talk to her. She's terrified. I'm going to explain to her what's happening."

"We don't have time—"

"There's time! One minute! Rose." Albus looked back down at me. "Rose, you're at the hospital. The baby—"

"Al, the baby." The fear returned, and I tried to sit up, and then the fear was mixed with intense pain.

"Don't try to sit up, Rose. Relax." Albus put two firm hands on my shoulders, and I tried to relax, but I couldn't. My baby. _Pea Head_.

"Albus, what's happening?"

"The baby is in distress," Albus said calmly. "You called me earlier saying that you were in pain, so I came and brought you here. The baby is in distress, and these doctors are going to operate."

"Mr. Potter—"

"One god damn minute! Rose, everything is going to be okay. I promise."

"Mr. Potter, we have to take her."

"Albus, call Hermione," I said as the distance between us began to expand. He held onto my hand, and tears streamed out of the corners of my eyes. "Call Hermione and Ron." He nodded, and I saw him wipe his face. "I love you."

Then he was out of sight, and I was wheeled into a room with bright lights. I squinted and put my hand over my eyes, but after a moment, my hand was gently moved away. I opened my eyes and saw a handsome man with chocolate skin staring down at me. His head was covered with a blue surgical cap, and he was wearing matching blue scrubs with a white lab coat hanging open over them. His mask was pulled down around his neck, and he smiled warmly. He made me feel safe.

"Hi, Rose. I'm Dr. Michaelson. As your brother told you"—I didn't correct him to tell him that Albus was my cousin. It must have been what Al told them to get them to listen to him. I felt a surge of love for him—"your baby is in distress. Your brother said you aren't due for another five weeks, and I know you're scared, but we're going to deliver the baby now."

"What—no—"

_Panic_.

It wasn't time. He wasn't ready. _I_ wasn't ready.

"I know it's scary, but I'm going to take care of you and your baby. Have you decided on a name yet?" he asked as he pulled the mask over his face and pulled a light over me.

"Yes," I said slowly. My head was starting to feel heavy. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I wanted—no, _needed_—to sleep. It would feel so good if I just—

"What's your baby's name?"

I could hear Dr. Michaelson's voice, but I just wanted to sleep. I couldn't be rude—I had to answer him, what would Hermione say if I didn't—but I wanted to let the darkness take me. I wanted to just fall under, into the abyss. Somehow I knew it would feel better there, and somehow I knew that the darkness would come, and when the light came back, everything would be okay.

So I gave in. I closed my eyes and I felt them place something on my face. So my voice was muffled when I said, "Leo."

* * *

_A memory._

I sighed as I ran my fingers through the thin blonde hair on Scorpius's chest. He was on his back, one arm bent behind his head and the other wrapped around my shoulders. I was on my side, my bare body pressed against Scorpius's side with my head resting on his chest while I listened to his heartbeat and played with the hair on his chest. The feeling of my head moving ever so slightly up and down as he breathed soothed me. His smell made me feel like I was home.

"I missed you."

I looked up at him and he was looking down at me, his gray eyes slightly hooded and his cheeks flushed with the pleasure of what had just happened between us less then ten minutes earlier.

"I missed you so much, Scorpius," I said in response.

He smiled sadly. "This is harder than I thought it would be… being away from you so much."

I looked away and went back to playing with his chest hair. I breathed in deeply and then exhaled. "I know."

We lapsed into silence, and after about a minute, I buried my face into his chest a bit more. "You smell good."

I felt him chuckle. "Thanks." He pulled me closer.

"I want to stay here forever," I said quietly. "In your arms. Being held by you."

"I want you to stay here forever," he murmured in response.

I felt safe in his arms. I felt good and loved, and I truly never wanted to leave his embrace. It was hard. We had only been living this long distance relationship—him at Hogwarts, me in London—for two months, but it was exhausting. I ached for him. I _needed_ him, and he wasn't there. We had seen each other only twice since the term had started, both times in a room he had rented at an inn in Hogsmeade, and it wasn't enough. I wanted to see him every minute of every hour of every day. It wasn't fair being away from him like this. We had managed to make it through Hogwarts unscathed only to end up separated by the lives each of us had chosen.

"When will forever be here?" I whispered as I draped my arm over his waist and nestled closer to him.

"Hey."

Scorpius put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up so I would look at him. I felt my body respond to his touch as it always did, and I leaned into his touch. If I could, I would have his hands on me all the time, always, forever.

I looked up into his gray eyes, and a familiar hum developed beneath my skin.

"It won't be this way forever."

"How can it not be?" I said after a pause. "You work here. I live there. We're always apart."

"Well…" Scorpius frowned and I reached up to massage the frown away. He smiled and caught my wrist in his hand and pulled it down to his chest. "When professors get married, they _are_ able to get separate living quarters a little ways off the grounds."

I looked up at him as my heartbeat picked up when I realized exactly what he was saying. I didn't think he even realized it—it was so casual, so simple, so _there_, that surely he hadn't realized that he just said he was going to be married to me one day.

"Are you saying you're gonna marry me?" I asked shyly, a pleasured flush creeping up my neck.

He frowned again. "Of course I'm going to marry you." His tone spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh."

"You okay with that?"

I tried to suppress the mad grin that I knew wanted to spread across my face. Sometimes Scorpius would drop these casual bombs on me—bombs that indicated forever—and he never understood how they made me feel. But I could feel it deep in my heart—my complete and utter happiness. I looked back down at his chest and hid my smile from him. "I suppose I'll find a way to be okay with that."

"Hey," he said again, this time tapping me on the nose to get my attention. I looked up at him, trying to stop my fingers from tingling and my limbs from trembling with excitement and joy. My heart felt too big for my chest, my emotions all over. I smiled at him, and he tugged me up so he could plant a soft kiss on my lips. I felt it all the way to my toes.

"I'm going to marry you, Rose Weasley," he said after he pulled away. "One day you're going to be my wife. And if you've got a problem with that, speak now or forever hold your piece."

I giggled and then wiggled out of his arms quickly so I could swing one leg over him and straddle him. Then I kissed him—long and deep and hard—and he gripped my thighs as he kissed me back eagerly.

"I guess I'm okay with that," I said breathily when I came up for air. "Being your wife."

He grinned, and a moment later I was pinned beneath him. And then he was kissing me again, and I forgot what we were even talking about in the first place.

* * *

_Everything is dark. _

_My eyes are open, but everything is dark. _

_There is a sliver of moonlight leaking in, but I don't know where I am. _

_Where am I?_

_My head hurts. _

_Actually, saying my head __hurts__ is an understatement._

_My entire body is screaming in pain from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. _

_I'm hungry. I'm tired. I'm thirsty. _

_And my fucking head hurts. _

_I turn my head to the side and see a figure. But it's dark and I can't make out who it is. I can see the chest moving—breathing, slowly, in, out—but I can't make out any of the features. I turn my body to the side and watch whoever it is. I can't see them, but I know I want to watch them. I just know whoever it is is here for a reason._

_So I curl onto my side and try to keep my eyes open so I can watch the figure, but I can't—I can feel the weight. _

_As I let the darkness take me again, I think I hear my name._

* * *

_A dream_.

"God, you're beautiful."

I smiled and looked up.

Scorpius stood above me, his body silhouetted with the sun at his back. He looked gorgeous—his blonde hair flopping the wind, the top button of his plaid, collared shirt open to expose the dark blonde hair on his chest.

I was sitting on a blanket with my legs crossed under me wearing a blue cotton dress with short sleeves and a sweetheart neckline. My hair was pulled back into a long ponytail. The dress was short, almost indecently so, but it was Scorpius's favorite, and it was a warm summer day.

Scorpius sat down next to me on the checkered blanket, and I set down the book I was reading beside me. Scorpius then took up one of my free hands and entwined his fingers with mine. He rubbed his thumb along my index finger as he stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankle and leaned back on his free hand.

I smiled and scooted closer to him, stretching out my own legs so I could twist and press myself against him and drape my right leg over his. I loved being like this—just _with_ him, next to him, as close as I could get. Scorpius wasn't… _forthcoming_ with his emotions. He wasn't the type to say he loved me constantly and he wasn't the type to tell me how he was feeling or what he wanted (unless it was when we were in bed together). But when he held me, I knew. Everything made sense when I was in his arms, when I was apart of him.

I leaned toward him and nuzzled my face into his neck. How did he always smell so fucking _good_?

I kissed his neck and then he turned toward me and placed his lips on my forehead. It was the sweetest thing. My eyes fluttered shut and I leaned up toward his mouth, craving the contact—I always, _always_ craved the contact. I always wanted more. I always wanted to be near him.

Would that ever go away? Would I ever not want to be constantly with him and feel a gaping emptiness when I wasn't? I didn't think I would. If it hadn't gone away after all this time, I didn't see how it could ever.

"I love you," I whispered against his neck, and I smiled when I felt him shiver. I reached over with my free hand to cup his face and turn him toward me so I could kiss him. I felt a sigh—a shiver, a quiver—radiate from the center of me to the rest of my body. Our mouths formed perfectly to each other, and I gently sucked at his bottom lip in order to tug his mouth open. Then I lifted myself up a bit so I could get a better angle and slip my tongue inside.

And in one minute flat, we had gone from an innocent couple holding hands on a blanket, to two people who were trying to devour each other. I let go of his hand so I could cup his face with both hands, and then he leaned back on both his free hands. I felt him smile, and I smiled back, and there we were—two grown adults making out in the middle of the day in an open meadow. And neither of us cared.

I remembered the first time I kissed him—the way my heart had thumped not only from the kiss but from knowing it was forbidden. Deep in my mind, later, I had wondered if my allure to him had to do with that fact that it wasn't allowed—that I had been going through my own form of rebellion for some time before that and that this was just another part of that… But when it wasn't forbidden, when we were just a normal couple and there was nothing to hide and everything was out in the open for the world to see, all my emotions still felt amplified. I still quivered beneath his touch. My fingers still tingled when he got close. I still wanted him so badly I ached. He still set me on fire with every move he made—_Jesus_—I would never get tired of him.

I sighed and detached my mouth from his only long enough so I could climb over him and straddle his hips and suck in a bit of air. His firm hands went to my thighs and I could feel them shake slightly as I moved toward them, trying to urge him to slip them up higher. I wrapped my arms around his neck and didn't stop kissing him—I couldn't—I was like a person dying of hunger, and every bite I took only made me hungrier.

I felt him grow hard beneath me, and—because I was dying of hunger—I rubbed myself against him, only the thin fabric of my knickers separating me from him. It was always like this. He drove me crazy, made me forget who I was sometimes. I wanted—god, I just _wanted_.

"Rose."

His voice sounded strangled when he said my name, like he was trying his hardest to maintain control.

"We shouldn't do this here," he said, panting against my mouth.

I ignored him and went back to kissing him, our tongues doing a fierce dance.

My heart was pounding and my entire body felt hot as I started rubbing myself back and forth along his length. I heard his groan, and the strangled sound filled me with so much pleasure and lust that it made the air whoosh out of me. I pulled back slightly so our lips were still touching but we were able to catch our breaths. I opened my eyes, and I was slightly startled to see Scorpius's intense gaze staring back at me. I was already so ready for him, wanting him, and I rubbed myself faster, desperate for the friction as we both panted heavily.

"Touch me," I begged in a frantic whisper.

He growled and blinked slowly before moving one of his hands between us.

When I felt one finger enter me, I arched and bit my lip, trying to stem my cries.

We were both still fully clothed, and no one far off would be able to tell what we were doing other than snogging intensely, but I didn't want to draw any more attention to us.

He slipped another finger inside and I ground against his hand as he moved it in and out of me, his thumb finding that bundle of nerves that was going to make me lose it. He was panting in my ear—his breath making me shiver—and I was whimpering against his neck, feeling a release coming and needing it desperately. It was insane that we had hardly been at this for ten minutes, but I wanted him so badly that I ached. He made me like this—needy and desperate for him, any time, any place.

I wanted more.

_More_.

I moved my hands from around his neck and began frantically working at the clasp of his trousers as I started to kiss him again. I had flicked open the button and pulled down the zipper, when he pulled back, panting.

"Rose," he said, a warning in his tone. "We shouldn't—"

"We'll be quick," I said breathily as I reached into his pants and began to stroke him. He was on fire and hard as stone. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath. "Just fuck me, Scorpius."

That did it. I tore at the last shreds of his control, and _he_ tore at my panties. Just as I heard the snap and felt the rush of air hit me, I pulled him out of his trousers and he sprung free, long, thick, hard, and _proud_. I didn't waste any time before I edged up a bit and sank down onto his length. We both gasped, and I stayed there for a moment, getting accommodated to the feel of him inside me, relishing the way he fit perfectly.

Then I started to move slowly—up, down, back, front. I was whimpering in the back of my throat and biting my lip so hard that I thought I might draw blood. My hands were on his shoulders, and Scorpius's hands were gripping my waist—_hard_—I knew I was going to have marks there tomorrow, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything but the feeling of him inside me, sliding in and out, quick and hard. He was thrusting up into me as he pulled me down onto his cock, and it took every ounce of my strength not to cry out.

I slid my hands up to cup his jaw and I looked down at him. God, but I loved this man. He did things to me that no one had ever done to me. He made me feel things that I didn't even know it was possible to feel. I loved him, I adored him, I desired him, I craved him.

"Are you close?" he asked, his voice hoarse and strained.

I nodded. "So close, Scorpius," I whispered back.

"I love you," he said right before he brought a hand between us. I wanted to respond and tell him I loved him so much it hurt, but the words died in my throat as soon as I felt him massaging my clit. It only took a few seconds—_one—_"ahh"—_two—_"yes"—_three—_"Scorpius"—_four—_"unh"—_five—_"yes"—_six—_"yes"—_seven_—"YES"—and then I was coming.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him tight to me as I stiffened. My mouth fell open in a silent scream, and he continued to massage me and pump into me, carrying out my orgasm. I released the breath I was holding and turn into a heap of breathy sighs and whimpers and gasps. I could feel him pouring himself inside me, and—_one, two, three_—more pumps and he grunted and held there as he finished. He came long and hard, and I sagged against him.

Wordlessly, one of his hands wandered away and I glanced over and saw him reaching for his wand. I slowly slid off of him and he fell big and limp. He aimed his wand at both of us to clean up, and then aimed it at the ruins of my knickers. When they were fixed, I stood up and before I could reach for them, he gripped them and held them open for me to step into. Once I had, he slid them up and followed so that he was on his knees in front of me with his hands on my hips. He kissed my stomach and then nuzzled there as his thumbs began to run soft circles on my hipbones.

"You better stop that," I said huskily. "Or we're going to end up right back where we just were."

Scorpius chuckled and then tugged at my hand so I would sit next to him.

"You're incredible," he murmured as he put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close so he could place a kiss on the top of my head.

"I'm glad we came here today."

"See," he said, pulling back so he could gaze at me. I curled my legs beneath me and stared up into his beautiful gray eyes. "And you didn't want to celebrate today. Aren't you glad I forced you?"

I smiled and turned my head so I could kiss his neck. "I suppose," I said when I pulled back. "But who wants to celebrate their twenty-seventh birthday? What a hideous number."

Scorpius rolled his eyes at me and then pulled me back as he laid back onto the blanket. I laid my head on his chest and bent my legs so my knees were resting on his thigh. He bent one arm behind his head and kept the other wrapped around me.

"Well, at least I'm not as old as you."

"Hey!" Scorpius pinched my arm.

"Ow!"

"I'm not that old," he said indignantly, but I could still hear the humor in his voice.

"Oh, yes you are. Thirty-two. Shoot me when that happens."

"Wow. You are such a drama—"

"Mummy! Daddy!"

I lifted my head up and saw a young blonde boy running towards us with a younger red-headed girl following close behind as fast as her small legs would take her.

"Mum, look what I found," the boy said excitedly and breathlessly when he reached us. I sat up and held out my hand so that he could drop whatever it was inside.

When a small frog landed in my palm and then immediately jumped toward my face, I yelped and dodged out of the way.

Scorpius and the two children laughed hysterically, and I glared at all of them.

"Mum is scared of frogs!"

I tried to contain a smile at seeing all three of them laugh at me, and then I jumped up with a grin on my face.

"I'm gonna get you for this, squirt!"

The boy screeched and immediately started running away and the little girl followed after him like she always did—always wanting to be just like her brother.

"Come here, Leo!" I called as I chased after him. He looked back at me, laughing loudly and merrily, and when he turned back he ran straight into his father's arms.

"Got you!" Scorpius said as he scooped up Leo and began tickling him furiously.

"Daddy!" Leo cried mirthfully. "Daddy!"

The little girl was looking on gleefully, and I snuck up behind her and grabbed her from behind. "Now, I got _you_!" I said as I began to tickle her.

"Lee-lee," she called for her brother as she laughed.

"I can't—save you, Cassie!" he managed to gasp out through his mirthful cries.

Then, all four of us laughing, we collapsed onto the blanket.

Suddenly, the clouds rolled in, and I looked up.

No one had called for rain today. I glanced back down at my family and smiled, ignoring the clouds and unable to imagine a more perfect day. I was happy, blissfully happy, and no clouds were going to stop that.

But then they were rolling in too much—too fast, too _aggressive_. They were gray and blackening and they were moving faster than I had ever seen clouds move. I frowned at them, bemused—that wasn't natural, wasn't normal—but I was too happy and in love with the three people in front of me to care. The blackening clouds were not going to stop my happiness.

"Mummy," Leo said as he scooted toward me with big, gray eyes. I tore my eyes away from the clouds. How could I not be in love with that face? But his voice was muffled. "Don't be mad at me, okay?"

The picture was fading, everything was slipping away, but I was still happy. I was still madly in love. "I'm not mad at you, Leo," I said before pulling him toward me in a big hug. "I love you."

* * *

"_Leo."_

I gasped.

I was thirsty.

I was extremely, incredibly thirsty.

My mouth felt like I had about twenty balls of cotton shoved inside. I moved my mouth, trying to find whatever moisture was there, but there was none.

I moaned softly and tried to open my eyes. As soon as I did, I slammed them shut.

_Bright_.

_Too goddamn bright_.

But I needed water. I needed something to drink before my mouth turned to sand and I was never able to find moisture again.

I tried to speak, but instead I coughed, my throat and mouth too dry for me to form words.

"Rose."

I heard my name.

_Open your eyes_, I told myself. _Everything will be okay if I can just open my eyes_.

Slowly—and with every bit of force I could muster—I opened my eyes.

"Rose, here, drink this."

But I was too stunned to drink. Suddenly my extreme thirst was forgotten, and I was frozen in time, staring into the eyes of the man I thought I would never see again—the man I thought had left me forever.

But it couldn't be him—no, it wasn't him—I had thought I saw his eyes before, but it was just Albus. It was just a dream. He wasn't here.

I blinked.

Then I felt the straw pressed into my mouth and without taking my eyes away from him, I drank.

Oh, but it was so good. It was cool and refreshing and immediately I felt better, more relaxed. I wanted to ask for more. I wanted to beg for more because it had been so good and so perfect and I could still feel it sliding into the bottom of my stomach, but I didn't have the strength to beg because I only had the strength for one word.

"Scorpius."

* * *

_A/N: Hi! I decided to move my author notes to the end so they don't interrupt the flow of the story. Thanks so much to everyone who has been reviewing this story and messaging me on tumblr and following me on tumblr and just sending me love in general. You guys are seriously amazing. I hope you loved this chapter as much as I did! I had a lot of fun writing it. In the next chapter, Rose has some 'splaining to do! Go to my tumblr for previews and updates. xx_


	5. And Who Are You?

**Chapter 5: And Who Are You?**

_But then we cannot understand this fear—it becomes nearly impossible for our minds to comprehend how absolutely we are unable to protect ourselves._

* * *

_Why am I so emotional?  
__No, it's not a good look, gain some self-control.  
__Deep down I know this never works,  
__But you can lay with me so it doesn't hurt._

– _Sam Smith_

* * *

He was standing there.

Right _there_.

Scorpius.

And it was as if I had been in the darkness my entire life and suddenly—_suddenly_—someone had turned on the light.

Everything came rushing back. Seeing him—looking into his gray eyes that somehow _spoke_ to me—saw right through me—seeing his tall frame hovering above me, staring at the vein in his neck that I loved—it brought it all right back.

Right _there_, god, right there.

He looked gorgeous. Of course he did. He always did. And he was looking at me.

And I _remembered_.

I remembered the way his lips felt the first time we kissed. How I'd been so shocked that first time, and then I had given in and I had realized what it was like to want—to really, _really_ want—and it had… freaked me out. All of it had freaked me out. But then I remembered that first time I had asked him for more—_more_, you know—and how completely unafraid I had been. I think I had loved him then. I think I _knew_—then—that he would tear me apart but that I would like it. I would _want_ it. Because even though he had torn me apart and ripped me to shreds, I had no regrets. I still wanted him. All of him.

I remembered knowing I loved him. That had freaked me out all over again. And then I remembered when he told me. I had been so mad at him for telling me that way—bloody _drunk_ at a Hogwarts dance behind a house curtain for _Hufflepuff_—I wanted to punch him, hit him, scream in his face for ruining something that was supposed to be… _perfect_. But then it had been. He loved me. And it was perfect.

God, it hurt. I remembered when he left. I remembered how much that hurt. How the pain in my chest wouldn't go away for weeks. It had always been there.

Right fucking _there_.

I remembered that I couldn't stop crying. No matter how much I would tell myself to stop—just _stop_, Rose, you _idiot_—I physically could _not stop crying_ because it hurt so much and I missed him and I _loved_ him and I knew that it would never go away and he was here. He was _there_.

"Hi."

I sucked in a quick, shaky breath.

"Hi," I breathed.

His brow furrowed. _He's so beautiful_. I saw his hand twitch. I forced myself to ignore what it meant. "God, Rose."

He took a step closer and I swear that time actually stood still—that the earth actually stopped spinning for a brief moment in time.

And that's when it happened. My fingertips started to tingle.

He reached out and put his hand on my cheek, and I couldn't stop it. I trembled and I leaned into his touch, wanting and _needing_ to feel more of it. It was a shock to my system—feeling this, experiencing _this_—because I forgot. I forgot how good it felt. I forgot the pain. I forgot everything. But only briefly. _I never thought_—I immediately reached up and covered his hand with my own. My eyes fluttered and my mouth fell open slightly and my entire body was shaking. I swallowed. It felt good, so good, and I never wanted it to stop. It was amazing and I never wanted his hand to leave my face. All of my nerves, all of my senses, were on overdrive. He rubbed his thumb across my cheek leave a trail of fire, and I tilted my head back. My teeth grazed the tip of his thumb and I heard him hiss.

Then I knew he stepped closer because then I smelled him.

_Fuck_.

I smelled him and I lost it because I had missed that smell so _bloody_ much. I had missed everything about him, but smelling him… _God_… I remembered being curled up in my bed, smelling the spot on my pillow that he had slept the night before he left me. I remembered that in movies women would be able to smell it for weeks, maybe even months, but it was gone so soon. I had felt as if as soon as the smell was there it was gone. But when it was gone… It was like phantom limb. I could still smell it in my nostrils, feel it crawling it's way inside of me. And now he was here, and he was _killing_ me. All of my senses were heightened. My skin was on fire and every tiny movement sent jolts of electricity through me. And Scorpius was absolutely killing me and it felt wonderful and gut wrenching and painful and fucking _phenomenal_ at the same time.

"Scorpius," I sighed. I looked up at him, and his eyes were stormy. "Scorpius," I said again, my voice so shaky that I could barely form words. He stepped closer again and tears sprang to my eyes. I was terrified and happy and overwhelmed, and the tears had to come. "I haven't—I never thought—I know—"

_I never thought I'd see him again_.

I sighed shakily. "I know there's a lot to talk about. I know you're probably… angry and confused and—god, there's so much—I never—" I squeezed his hand on my face as two tears fell from my eyes—one after the other. It wasn't even that I was _sad_, I was just completely and utterly overwhelmed by his presence. It hurt to look at him. And he wasn't saying anything. Just watching me with eyes that I couldn't read. "I know you hate me," I tried again.

"Rose—"

_Jesus_, the sound of him saying my name. "Scorpius, I know—I know you hate me, and god, you must hate me even more now, but"—I couldn't stop shaking, I _had_ to stop shaking. I was trembling so hard that I could barely speak. I reached forward with my free hand to grab at his jumper and pull him closer, needing him nearer and trying to steady myself—"I never thought I would see you again. I never—and I've missed you and I lo"—I couldn't think. In this moment I had a one-track mind—"I know there's so much to talk about but"—I grabbed his hand and moved it so I could kiss his palm—"Please, Scorpius," I whispered. He smelled like heaven. "Just—I know we have to talk—but just"—I gave in. I needed it—"God, just kiss m—"

He didn't hesitate.

His mouth was on mine before I finished what I was saying. Before I could finish my plea.

Scorpius pressed his lips hard to mine, and I reached forward and gripped his shirt in my fists so I could pull him closer. His hands were on my neck—big, warm, strong hands that heated the blood that had been cold inside me for so long.

My mouth opened slightly against his when I tried to catch my breath, and his tongue—_god, that tongue_—moved against mine and I felt a bolt of electricity shoot through me. I was trembling all over, and in another effort to steady myself, I moved my hands from his shirt so I could wrap them around his neck. His hands moved, too, in order to adjust, and they came down to grip my waist. I whimpered into his mouth, unable to control anything that was going on inside my body and inside my mind, and his fingers dug into the flesh of my sides. He was gripping me so hard it was nearly painful, but I didn't care—all of my feeling, all of _me_, was focused on the way his mouth moved against mine and the warmth of his body radiating towards me.

It was all just so bloody _familiar_—the way he smelled, the way he tasted, the way my arms fit around his neck, the way his body just _fit_ with mine—it was so familiar. It was as if no time had passed, as if the last six months had just been a nightmare, and I was finally awake.

It was as if our bodies had a mind of their own—I was arching toward him, craving his touch, craving the heat of his embrace—and he was pressing in on me until his arms were wrapped around my waist and he was half on top of me from my partially upright position, pressing me into the mattress of my hospital bed. There were small sounds coming from my throat, but I didn't care—I couldn't stop them. I wanted him so badly—his lips his tongue, everything, it was perfect, and I wanted him. My hands went into the hair at the nape of his neck, and when I gripped it hard, trying to control my shaking hands, he growled into my mouth. I tried to bring him closer, but we were already as close as we could be. I just needed more. I needed him _closer_. I needed him _here_.

His mouth broke away from mine so he could trail kisses along my jaw. We were both breathless, panting, and I still needed _more_. His mouth traveled down my neck until he got to a spot at the base of my neck just above my collarbone—this was the spot that he always found, the spot that always drove me mad. It felt so good—his tongue and his mouth working at that spot, sure to leave a mark, and it was just so fucking familiar. It was familiar, and it was perfect, and he was _killing me_, and I couldn't take it anymore. He was going to tear me up inside, and I wasn't going to be able to recover because we couldn't do this. It was too much. It was unbearable, and I wouldn't let him do this to me.

Tears sprung to my eyes. Then I moved my hands from around his neck and gripped his shoulders so I could push him away from me.

My vision was blurred from my tears, but from what I could see of him, he looked wrecked. His eyes were glazed and unfocused—bright with lust—and he looked confused but also determined, and there was so much more I couldn't see, so much more that I didn't understand.

I was staring at him and I was shaking violently, and then they were _there_. The tears. The sobs. I broke.

Finally.

And what had been a heated, passionate, _electric_ moment turned into a moment of absolute grief and misery. I sobbed. It was the hardest I had cried since the first week of the break up—bone wrenching, muscle cramping, _agonizing_ sobs that came from the darkest part of me.

Vaguely, I felt arms around me, and I knew they had to be Scorpius's, but I couldn't focus. My head was in my hands and I couldn't stop _sobbing_. I didn't even know why I was crying at this point. But every bit of emotion that that kiss had brought on was now flowing down my face and into my hands and onto Scorpius's shirt.

After a while, there were no more tears. My arms moved to around his waist, and I had been reduced to hiccups and occasional residual sobs that got caught in my throat and tried to force their way out.

Scorpius was rubbing my back, murmuring soothing words in my ears. When I was finally able to focus on the words, it just made me want to cry again.

"Breathe," Scorpius whispered. "Rose, breathe." He was massaging circles on my lower back, and I took several deep breaths, allowing his words and his hot breath in my ear to wash over me.

After a few more minutes, he pulled back, his hands on my shoulders, and he studied my face.

"Better?"

I nodded and hiccupped.

He smiled—I thought that smile would kill me all over again—and reached over so he could pick up the cup next to my bed.

"Here," he said. "Drink this." He guided the straw toward my mouth, and I drank deeply. As soon as I finished, my body instantly began to relax and I felt hydrated and refreshed.

"Was that water?" I asked, remembering a similar feeling earlier when he had first put the straw to my lips.

"Mixed with a calming draught." He smiled again, but this time the smile was sadder. "I thought you might need it."

I nodded. "Thank you."

When his other hand dropped from my shoulder and he moved away, I felt the loss immediately. He moved back toward the chair that was next to my bed, and I watched the muscles in his shoulders work as he moved it so that it was even closer. Then he turned and sat down and crossed one leg over the other. He put his elbows on the armrest of the chair and steepled his fingers. I saw the mask—that mask that he would often adopt when we fought and he was determined to get me to admit some fault or some mistake.

Neither of us spoke for what felt like an eternity. I studied the planes of his face, trying to commit everything to memory. He looked older—his hair was cut shorter than the last time I had seen him, and his normally clean-shaven face was covered in stubble. For some reason, his shoulders looked broader, and his eyes looked tired and wary—although still a bit bright from our earlier kisses—and he was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.

I swallowed.

"How long have you been here?" I asked quietly, my voice hoarse from crying.

"A while," he said simply.

And then a thought occurred to me, and I remembered where I was and why I was here, and panic lanced through me, and I felt sick. "How's—" But then I stopped, unsure of how to go on, of how I could possibly explain myself.

"The baby," he finished for me. He was looking at a spot on the floor, his jaw ticking occasionally. I could see the gears turning in his head, knowing he was trying to piece together everything and form words to explain just how angry he was.

I nodded quickly.

"He's fine."

I relaxed only slightly and let out a slow breath. "I want to see him."

"You will."

I gave him a disbelieving look, feeling the anger rise up so suddenly that it almost scared me. Where the hell did he get off? "I want to see my son _now_."

"You will," Scorpius said more firmly. "The nurses are monitoring him right now, but he'll probably hungry soon and then they'll bring him in."

"Monitoring him?" I said, stiffening again. "I thought you said he was fine."

"He is," Scorpius said, his voice even—too even. "But he was still a month premature, so they need to keep running tests and monitoring him and making sure everything is okay."

I relaxed into the bed, feeling exhausted. "What happened?"

"The doctors can explain it better than I can," he said slowly. "But something happened that put both you and the baby in distress. And then the cord ended up wrapping around the baby's leg and they had to take him out or they would have had to amputate it as soon as he was born."

I covered my mouth with a hand. "Oh my god."

"But he's fine. They delivered him by Caesarian Section, and he's fine." He sighed. "Why would you come to a muggle hospital rather than going to St. Mungo's?"

I started slightly at the abrupt change of subject. "I wanted to come here. I trust my doctor, and I wanted to have the baby naturally," I said with a shrug. "Without magic or drugs or potions or anything."

"Well, that didn't really work out," he said. I noticed his tone was colder, more clipped. This was the moment that I knew that the _honeymoon_ was over, so to speak. Our initial, impulsive, impassioned, fierce reactions to seeing each other for the first time in six months were over. Now the anger, bitterness, and resentment had returned with a vengeance.

Silence fell, and I knew I had to say something. I knew I had to explain why our child was sitting in a nursery and I had never told him. I had to explain everything, and I knew he wanted an explanation.

"I—"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly.

"I—"

"Is he mine?"

I gaped. "Yes, of course. Who—"

"Okay, so that's not the reason." He was staring at a point on the floor, barely containing whatever emotions were just below the surface. "Why didn't you tell me about our son?"

"I couldn't—"

"You couldn't?" His eyes snapped up at me, and I saw a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You were pregnant with my child and you couldn't tell me?"

"Scorpius—"

"What twisted part of your brain thought that it would be acceptable to keep something like that from me?" His last few words were just below a shout. Clearly whatever control Scorpius had managed to hold onto was gone. He looked as if he could barely contain his rage. He leaned forward and his legs uncrossed. "I am that baby's _father_, Rose," he said, jamming his finger into his thigh on every other word. "I had a _right_ to know that you were pregnant. I had a right to have a say in it. I had a right to be a part of the pregnancy. I HAD A RIGHT TO BE HERE WHEN HE WAS BORN."

I flinched at the volume of his voice. His control—that bloody control that he was always so desperate to hold onto—had finally snapped. Part of me felt gratified by it.

"This is so bloody—goddammit, Rose! How the hell could you do this? Jesus CHRIST! If I hadn't come back to England—if I hadn't been here—if Albus hadn't had the _decency_ to call me—would you have ever told me?" When my mouth opened and closed, he scoffed. "I cannot believe you, Rose. We broke up. I understand. I hurt you—I _get that_—but you can't _do_ shit like this. Even if we aren't together, I mean, god, it's our _baby_, Rose. How can you keep something like that from me? How can you—"

"Scorpius—"

"I don't think you even understand that this is unacceptable behavior! I don't think you understand what a shock it was to be called by Albus at four in the morning to hear him tell me that my girlfriend—"

"—_ex_-girlfriend—"

"—is pregnant, she's having the baby, and that it's not due for another month. I don't think you understand that this _affects me_, Rose. You don't understand that I get to be apart of this, that I—"

"You left!" I shouted, unable to take it anymore, unable to listen to him berate me like I was a stupid, ignorant child for one more minute. It was reminiscent of when he had screamed at me for giving Professor McGonagall a note that said he was sleeping with a student in order to get back at him when we were at Hogwarts. Back when I was his student, and he was my professor. Back when everything was—_Jesus, I never thought I would say this_—simple.

"Fuck you, Scorpius, you _left_ me." I felt a pain in my right side when I tried to sit up straighter, but I ignored it. "Without explanation and without anything more than telling me how fucking _difficult_ I am, you LEFT. What was I supposed to do?"

Scorpius looked at me with incredulity and angered bewilderment in his eyes. "You—what were you supposed to do? Is that what this is about? You were—what—_punishing_ me for leaving you?"

I faltered a bit and shook my head quickly. "No—I—"

"You—fuck, Rose, you aren't allowed to do shit like this. I don't care if I hurt you—I don't care that I _left_—you still have to tell me about something like this. I would have stayed—"

"Of course you would have stayed!" I shouted at him. "That's the problem!" My voice was hoarse and shaking. "Jesus—god, Scorpius, don't you get it, _that's_ the problem." Confusion marred his beautiful brow and I sighed. "I wanted you to stay with me because you _loved_ me and you couldn't live without me—not because of some warped sense of obligation to me and our son."

"Rose, grow up," he growled.

"Excuse me?" I gaped at him.

"I said grow the fuck up," he said with a bit more force as he stood up and began pacing the floor in front of my bed. I stared at him, anger making my blood boil.

"Fuck you."

"No, fuck you!" He shouted at me, turning and pointing a finger at me. "You don't get to make decisions like this because of your—because you don't want to wound your fucking _pride_."

"It wasn't—"

"Yes, it was. You wanted me to stay with you because I _wanted_ to—"

"Is that so wrong?" I yelled.

"Yes! Are you kidding? Yes, it's wrong. It's wrong when there's a fucking child involved. It's wrong when you're going to let your pride stop you from letting our child have a father in his life. CHRIST!"

"I wanted you to want me!" I yelled over him. "I wanted you to want our _baby_. I didn't want you to _say_ you wanted it. I didn't want you stay with me—with us—if you were miserable, LIKE YOU SO CLEARLY WERE."

"Don't pretend like you did this as a favor to me," he said with a dismissive flick of his hand. "Don't pretend like you did this because you didn't want to tie me down and you didn't want to make me miserable, Rose."

"No, it wasn't just for you," I shot back. _Of course it wasn't_. "It was for that baby. I didn't want my child to come into the world to a father who didn't want him. I didn't want this to be a _burden_ on you. I didn't want that for my child, always knowing that deep down you didn't want any of this, and I didn't want that for me and YES—"

"You did this for you. I hurt you, and you hated me for it."

"That's not—"

"YES, IT IS! GODDAMMIT ROSE, YES IT BLOODY WELL IS."

His voice made me freeze. I had never heard him like this. Scorpius had only yelled at me—I mean, really _yelled_ at me—once in his life, and it was when he found out that I had written that note to McGonagall. Even then, I hadn't feared the tone in his voice the way I did in that moment when he was glaring at me with more fury than I had ever seen in his eyes.

"THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS, ROSE!" He moved so he could walk up and stand next to the bed, glaring down at me. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I am." His voice softened only slightly. "But when it's about more than you—when it's about our _child_—you aren't allowed to do this."

"You shouldn't have left," I demanded stubbornly, unable to let it go, needing him to _see_. "You should have given me an explanation. You know what you aren't allowed to do, Scorpius? You aren't allowed to fuck your girlfriend and pretend everything is okay, and then the next night tell her everything is just too hard and that you can't do it anymore. You aren't allowed to do _that_."

"Rose."

"You're a bastard, Scorpius," I said, closing my eyes and massaging a spot on my head between my eyes. "If you had been here, if you hadn't broken up with me and _fled the country_, then maybe you would have known."

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"Yeah maybe it is. Maybe if you had wanted me and hadn't despised me so much—"

"Jesus—I DID WANT YOU, ROSE! God, will you stop! I did want you! I _do_ want you!"

"What—" I deflated, perplexed. "What?"

That stopped me in my tracks. My heart stuttered, my breath faltered. I stared at him.

I stared at the bridge of his nose, the crease between his eyebrows, the tight line of his lips, the laugh lines around his eyes. I studied him, confused, bewildered, and desperate for answers.

"What are you talking about?" I said quietly.

"There…" he exhaled heavily, raking a hand through his hair. "There's a lot you don't know."

"Scorpius…"

"Rose." He held up a hand.

Rage surged through me. "See, this is what I'm talking about!"

"Rose—"

"NO explanation, no words, just fucking _bullshit_! 'I do want you, Rose'—what the fuck does _that_ mean?"

"If you would stop yelling and let me explain—"

"Oh you want _me_ to stop yelling at _you_?" I laughed humorlessly. "That's rich, Scorpius, considering you've been yelling at me for the past 15 minutes!"

"Rose—"

"No, shut up, Scorpius! It's my turn to talk!"

Scorpius clenched his jaw and threw himself into the chair next to my bed.

"You're an arse. You don't get to come here, pretending that you're the great, noble guy and like you got something stolen from you. You broke _my_ heart. You left _the country_. I had no way of contacting you even if I wanted to, you made that plain."

"Rose—"

"No! You made every effort to cut ties with me. You _broke_ me, Scorpius." I put a hand to my chest in an attempt to steady myself. I could feel myself start to shake again. This was all so overwhelming. Having this conversation, but also just _seeing_ him again. It was an overload. "I _wept_ and _screamed_ and cried my eyes out until I couldn't anymore. I beg—you couldn't, _wouldn't_, hear me, but I _begged_ you to come back. I wanted you so desperately. I wanted you to _be_ here. I wanted you to massage my feet when they were swollen. I wanted you to go out and buy me ice cream at two in the morning. I wanted you to _want_ this. I wanted you to hold my hand when I gave birth to our son, and I wanted to see the look in your eyes when you held him for the first time. I wanted all of that. I wanted to be your wife—" my voice broke. I blinked slowly and took in a deep, shuttering breath. "I wanted that, and you snatched it from me when you decided to leave and never come back."

Scorpius stood up and walked toward me. I watched the way his body moved so fluidly and effortlessly, and I wanted to go back. I wanted to go back to six months earlier, and I would have chased him and begged him to stay. I wanted to go back and for him to want me. I wanted to erase everything and I wanted him _here_.

He reached forward and put a hand on my cheek. My heart was hammering so fast and my stomach was so mad with butterflies that I thought I was going to be sick.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

I looked up into his beautiful gray eyes, and it was truly like looking into his soul. I could see it all—his hurt, his anguish, his sorrow, his regret, his _longing_—and it cut me to the quick.

And I _hated_ him for that.

I hated him for making me see all of that, and I hated him for making me _want_, and I hated that he was here, and I hated that he was just standing _there_—right there—and telling me he was sorry and looking at me like that and making me hope and wish and _long_. I hated him.

I pushed his hand away from my face and turned to look in the other direction.

"Rose."

"Don't."

"Rose, I'm sorry."

"I don't care!" I snapped my head to look at him. "Nothing you say matters to me."

"I know you don't mean that—"

"OF COURSE I DON'T MEAN IT!" I threw up my hands. "Everything you do and everything you say fucking matters and that's why I hate you. I hate you for standing there and I hate you for apologizing. I hate you!" My voice broke.

"Rose…"

"What?" I said, my voice trembling. "What, Scorpius, what? What do you want from me? Do you want me to apologize for not telling you about Leo? Then I will. I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry that—"

"Leo?"

"That's—" I paused. He was staring at me, eyes full of so many things that I couldn't understand, that I couldn't place. My anger faltered, and I thought I would crumble over the confusion and hurt and indignance that I was beginning to see. So, I just stared at him, trying to decipher his eyes, trying to see everything that I could. I sucked in a breath. "That's what I'm naming him. Leo Arthur—"

"Weasley?" The beautiful crease between his eyebrows deepened and his eyes searched my face for answers.

I swallowed, and his eyes darted to my throat and then back up to my eyes. "I…"

He raised his eyebrows. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to say. I never thought I would see Scorpius again. I never thought Leo would know his father. Yesterday I had known that he was going to have my name, but today… Today I wasn't sure. And I knew that no matter what I said I would make Scorpius angry. Well. Angri_er_. _Well, fuck him, I'm angry, too_.

"Rose."

"Will you stop saying my name like that?" I snapped. "I'm tired of you yelling at me and reprimanding me—"

"Clearly you need to be reprimanded and yelled at," Scorpius said sharply as he turned and walked toward the foot of my bed so he could pace again. "I am furious about this situation, Rose. Beyond furious. And…" He turned so that he was facing me from the end of the bed. I tensed, knowing that determined look in his eyes. "I want our son—_Leo_—to have my name."

I took a deep breath.

"Rose, this is not up for debate. I want—"

"Okay."

"—my son… What?"

"I said, 'okay.' He can be Leo Malfoy."

Scorpius sighed in relief, and I could tell he was holding back a smile. It made me want to smile, too, but it also gave me hope, and I _hated_ hope.

Scorpius moved back to the chair next to my bed and sat down and scrubbed his hands down his face.

"Rose, there's a lot we need to talk about." He looked up at me.

I sighed. "Scorpius, I'm exhausted, and I want to hold my son." I glared at him. "And whatever bullshit you want to throw at me can wait."

"Do you know what today is?"

I was caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. "What?"

"October 14th."

"I—"

I knew exactly what day it was. I didn't need him to tell me. I didn't _want_ him to say—

"Yesterday… yesterday would have been our two year anniversary."

"Scorpius—"

"I want you back, Rose."

When people tell you about time standing still and about being frozen in a moment, believe them. Because that happened to me when Scorpius uttered those words. I had never known what it was like for time to literally and actually stand still. He was staring at me, his gray eyes seeing right through me, and I was trembling and my heart was _thundering_ in my chest so loud that I knew he could hear it. Goosebumps had erupted all over my body and I was simultaneously freezing and on fire. My body shook, my mouth went dry, and time stood still.

_He wants me back_.

They were the words I had been waiting to hear for six months and yet somehow they felt hollow in my ears. I resented the words because they were nothing but a symbol of all I had been through—of Scorpius believing that _he_ was the only one who had a say. That was one of the reasons that I had kept Leo from him—because for _once_, I was in control. For once, _I_ called the shots and _I_ was able to decide my own fate, and _nothing_ that Scorpius Malfoy did was going to change it. I wasn't going to be held together on his whim, and I wasn't going to break apart when he felt it was necessary. This time, _I was in control_, and if he wanted me back, well that was just too fucking bad.

"Scorpius—"

"Hi, mummy!"

The cheerful voice of the nurse floated into the room, breaking my reverie and stopping me from telling Scorpius to go fuck himself.

I sat up straight in bed and stared wide-eyed as the nurse wheeled in a tiny infant lying in a small hospital cradle. I gasped.

"Some of the nurses 'eard you outside." She shot a glare at Scorpius, and he quailed. She was a large woman with wide hips, dark skin, and laughing eyes. But I could tell that anyone would be afraid of her if she so much as raised an eyebrow. She had beautiful features—slightly slanted brown eyes and high cheekbones. I could tell that when she was younger she would have been stunning. "And this little man was gettin' 'ungry so we thought we'd bring 'im in to meet 'is mum."

My mouth was hanging open slightly as I struggled to breathe. I was smiling, but I was also petrified, and I wanted to hold him and see him and meet him, but I also wanted to run away because I was so scared. I was going to be a horrible mother. I could barely take care of myself. I was selfish and I had horrible language and it was a rare occasion that I ate three meals a day. I drank too much wine, and sometimes I smoked cigarettes on the road when I was out with the guys and celebrating. My flat was relatively clean and thanks to my mother it was baby-proof, but I had hard wood floors. What if I dropped him? What if I fell asleep with him in my arms and rolled over and killed him like I saw on the news a few months ago? What if I held him too tight what if he cried too much what if he hated me WHAT IF HE JUST STOPPED BREATHING WHAT IF—

"Here 'e is." The nurse was putting him into my arms, and as soon as he was settled there, all of my crazy thoughts evaporated.

He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

His eyes were closed and he was wearing a tiny blue hat that I reached up and pulled off his head slowly. He had a light dusting of blonde hair there, and—hesitantly at first—I moved my hand to touch his head gently. He smelled heavenly, like how I imagined an angel would smell. And he was so _small_. I felt my chin quiver as tears sprung to my eyes. He was the tiniest little human I had ever seen, and he was perfect.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead as one tear fell. It landed on top of his head, and I smiled as I brushed it away with my thumb. He let out a small whimpering sound and stretched. I felt butterflies flood my stomach, but then he opened his eyes.

I let out a small, laughing sob and looked at him. He was trying desperately to focus, wanting to see me, wanting to know his mother, and when he finally managed to keep his eyes open, I could see that they were gray. And I was staring into the eyes of my son, falling madly in love with him, and wanting to give him the best life I could give him.

It wasn't until I was broken from the spell of Leo's eyes that I realized that Scorpius was standing next to me. I looked up at him and smiled, and—for the moment—all the bitterness and anger disappeared and all I could think about was this beautiful moment. We put it all aside for Leo. He was all that mattered in this moment.

"He's—"

"Perfect," Scorpius finished for me. "Bloody perfect."

I laughed and Scorpius reached forward to brush Leo's hair back.

"Do you want to hold him?"

"No, I should—"

The nurse laughed a loud, bellowing laugh. "It's okay, daddy," she said in her cockney tongue. "He doesn't 'ave teeth yet, 'e won't bite."

Scorpius laughed nervously, and I gave him a reassuring smile. "Here," I said as I shift and held Leo towards him. Scorpius gently took Leo in his arms, and the wonder and amazement in Scorpius's eyes made tears spring to my eyes again. He looked stunned—as if he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing.

"He's so small."

I laughed and two tears fell from my eyes, one after the other. Scorpius looked up at me and grinned. Then he looked back down at Leo and his smile faltered just a bit.

"I've never seen anything like this."

The nurse laughed again and moved around the bed to take Leo out of Scorpius's arms. Scorpius pouted.

"Sorry, honey, those adorable lips aren' gonna work on me. Your baby 'as to eat."

Scorpius laughed and the tension from the room from just ten minutes ago seemed to dissipate. Everything felt odd—_normal_.

After Tracey—the nurse—explained to me in embarrassing and excruciating detail how to nurse Leo, she left the room, and not two minutes later, my room was packed with Potters and Weasleys and friends.

I noticed Scorpius in the back corner, talking in low tones to Albus, and I narrowed my eyes at them before Granny Weasley distracted me.

After I finished feeding him, I watched as Leo got passed around to all my cooing family members, and I smiled at all of them. Hermione was making sure that all of them put on hand sanitizer before touching him, and I just rolled my eyes at her. She was worse than a new mother.

When everyone was distracted, Albus came over and whispered in my ear.

"Give him a chance."

I whipped my head and looked over at him. He gave me an innocent smile that turned into a smirk.

I growled at him. "Traitor."

* * *

_A/N: Hi... So I'm really nervous for this chapter because I have a feeling that a LOT of you are gonna hate Rose AND THAT'S FINE. Rose is human. Rose is VERY flawed. But so is Scorpius. And so are all of us. So please keep that in mind. I have read through this chapter about 8000 times trying to make sure everything is exactly how I want it to be, so I hope you're all confused about your own feelings (as I am) or VEHEMENTLY for one side or the other. Let me know how you feel so I can laugh and smile and love you all (as if I don't already). BYE._


	6. A Mother's Mother

**Chapter 6: A Mother's Mother**

_Then there are other times when we don't recognize our own strength, our own ability to withstand pain._

* * *

"All set, Miss Weasley."

I looked up and grinned at the dark-skinned nurse. "Thank you, Tracey." I gave her a warm look as she placed Leo in my arms and hooked my bag onto the back of the wheelchair that the hospital had provided for us so my mother could wheel me and the new baby out of the hospital. "You've been so wonderful this week."

"'S'my job," she said with a smile. "I'll miss you and your sweet boy," she said as she brought one hand down to brush Leo's hair back.

We—Leo and I—had been in the hospital for about a week, and after consistent monitoring of both of us, I had finally been able to convince them—the doctors, the nurses, my _mother_—that we could finish our recovery at home. The only two people who had been there almost as long as Leo and me were Hermione and Scorpius. Scorpius and I hadn't talked anymore about our problems at both Tracey and Hermione's insistence. I was grateful for it, and Scorpius seemed to accept it as well. So instead he was polite, he wheeled me around the hospital when I wanted to get out of my room, he held Leo almost more than I did and just stared at him with eyes full of wonder and love, and he kept relatively silent. Once when I had woken up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain where my incision had been, I had heard Scorpius in the hallway yelling at some doctors while a nurse examined me. As much as I didn't want to admit it, his worry and protectiveness made my heart swell.

While Scorpius held Leo or fed or changed him, or tidied up my room in silence, my mum would look at him with wary and sympathetic eyes before shooting me knowing looks. I ignored her. I had enough of my own thoughts without considering what was going on in my mother's all-knowing mind.

Currently, Scorpius was standing in the corner looking grouchy with his arms crossed over his chest while he watched Tracey help me get ready to go, and while my mother settled everything with the doctors and nurses. Tracey had just given us a lecture about giving the baby a relaxing environment when he arrived home—this lecture consisted of her essentially scolding us about our first encounter earlier in the week—which was why Scorpius was in the corner glaring at her and pouting. I watched the muscle in his jaw tick, and I smirked and then bit my lip trying not to laugh at him. _Baby_. The thought wasn't an angry one.

Tracey leaned down and kissed the top of my head, and I tore my eyes away from Scorpius.

"Good luck, miss," she said and gave my shoulder a reaffirming squeeze.

I smiled and thanked her, and when she left the room, it was just Scorpius and me with Leo in my arms. The door was slightly ajar so I could hear my mother still talking to the doctors, asking a million questions about the recovery process and everything that had to be done to make sure everything went smoothly. I almost felt sorry for the doctors. Almost. But then again, I had had to endure this kind of thing my entire life, and it was a nice change when I got to witness someone else getting to suffer for once.

I glanced up at Scorpius to find him looking at me.

The way he was looking at me caught me off guard, making me forget all about my mother and the doctors and whatever might be going on outside my Scorpius bubble. I sucked in a breath, and I could feel that familiar heat course through my body the way it always did when he looked at me—when he was anywhere near me, really. This feeling had been an ever-present, dull hum underneath my skin for the past week, and if anything, his almost complete silence but always-there looks were making it nearly unbearable. I was still raw and emotional about the discussion we'd had earlier in the week, but it was so hard to stay mad at him when he was being so attentive and so loving to Leo and when he wasn't basically berating me. I wanted to hate him, but between his heated glances, worried gazes, and constant awareness, he was also apologetic.

Two nights after our argument, I had woken up in the middle of the night needing the bathroom. Scorpius was sleeping in the cot that the hospital had set up for him, and just like he had apparently done since I entered the hospital, he was sleeping at my bedside, lying to the staff and telling them that he was my husband so they would allow it. I tried to ignore the swoop in my stomach every time he said "my wife." When I had gotten done, I was pulling my IV along, walking carefully across the room so I wouldn't wake Scorpius when I had looked up to see him staring at me.

I remember I had looked up and met his eyes, which were glowing in the moonlight that was streaming in the window. He was sitting on the edge of his cot, and he held my gaze for several seconds before finally speaking.

"_I shouldn't have yelled at you the way I did."_

And that was it. My mouth had gaped stupidly, being completely befuddled by his late night confession, and before I could respond, he had stood up and walked out into the hallway.

I had tried to stay awake until he came back in so I could talk to him, but he was gone so long that I assumed he was in the nursery checking on Leo—like he did in all the time that he wasn't keeping an intense watch over me—and I was so exhausted that I couldn't stay up. As my body dragged me back into sleep, I just kept replaying the short half-apology in my head over and over.

In a way, I wished he was still yelling at me because when he wasn't, it just made it that much harder to stay mad at him. It was starting to make me crazy, which was part of the reason why I had begged the doctors to let me go home. If I was around him another minute I would break, I would crumble, and I would give in, or I would do something insane, like beg him to kiss me or throw myself in his arms. _A little late for that, Rose_.

Scorpius was still looking at me with an indecipherable expression. "We still have a lot to talk about."

I opened my mouth and closed it, and then I nodded. "I know." I sighed. My arms started to tremble a bit, but I knew I couldn't give in. I was already so overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the past week, and I knew I just had to _breathe_. "I just… God, I just need a break. I need some time to think and—"

"Rose."

"Just give me a day or two, Scorpius, _please_." I didn't know if I could go through the same emotional turmoil again so soon, but I knew I owed it to him.

"I'll give you tomorrow," he said. "But I'm coming over the day after. There's too much we have to discuss. I'll come over after work."

It took me a moment, and then I nodded.

Then he walked toward me, and I held my breath. He uncrossed his arms and put a hand on my cheek. My skin immediately erupted in goose bumps, and I exhaled slowly. He glanced down at Leo, who was fast asleep in my arms, and then looked back at me. He looked like he was steeling himself for what he was about to say. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his perfect, stupid face. "I've got a lot of fight left in me, Rose." I stopped breathing. "I won't give up. There's a lot you don't know, and I know what I want, and I know I made mistakes, but I won't give up."

I stared at him, bemused and lost in the intensity of his eyes. I opened my mouth to respond—to say something, _anything_ to put out the fire that seemed to have lost control in the room—but the next moment, Hermione entered the room. I was simultaneously grateful and annoyed. What was happening?

"Oh," she said when she saw the two of us. Scorpius caressed my cheek with his thumb—once, _twice_—and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his face. _What is going on inside his head?_ Then he stepped back and around so he could grip the handles of the wheel chair so he was out of my line of sight, thankfully. I looked at Hermione, who looked just as confused as I felt. "Are we… are we ready to go?" she asked, glancing back and forth between the two of us.

I nodded and Scorpius spoke from above and behind me. "All set, Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

She frowned at him, but I could tell she was trying to hide a smile. "For the one hundredth time, Scorpius, it's Hermione."

I could practically hear his smile as she turned and he began to wheel me out of the room. I knew what he was trying to do. First Albus, now my mother. Soon the entire family would be eating out of his hands and practically forcing me to swallow my fear and my pride and give him another chance. I shot him a wary look over my shoulder, and, to my great surprise, he smirked—_he smirked! The __bastard!_—and I looked back down at Leo, trying to ignore the flutter that that smirk gave me.

I didn't have time for this. I faced forward and ignored everyone but Leo until we got outside. I didn't have time for my mother's knowing looks and Scorpius's ominous words. I had to focus on the sweet little thing in my arms. I smiled at his sleeping form and was able to forget about my surroundings, even if only for a moment.

When we got out to the curb, my father's car was waiting. Ron had to be at work, but he had insisted that we take his car. I didn't want to apparate or use any other magical forms of transportation with Leo, and the doctor told me I couldn't drive. I was going to call a taxi, but my father had said that if I did that he would be "personally insulted," and I knew that when he said that, he meant it.

Scorpius walked up to the back door and opened it to pull out the car seat. Without a word, he lifted Leo from my arms and turned him to place him inside and strap him in. I watched the way he handled our son with care and tenderness and my heart clenched with longing. For a moment, I could see our lives together. I could see a different world—a world where Scorpius had never left, a world where he knew about Leo, a world where we had planned all of this out and Scorpius would just roll his eyes at my insistence that we run through every step of the process for when I went into labor and when I went home. I took a shaky breath and pushed myself out of the wheelchair, forcing the thoughts of what might have been to the back of my mind.

Hermione was strapping in the car seat. Scorpius was standing behind her and I was standing behind him, attempting to peak over his shoulder. Abruptly, he turned around to face me, and I gasped at his closeness.

"Rose."

He gripped my elbow and I tilted my head up to meet his eyes. Scorpius's eyes met mine and he seemed to be searching them for something. I could only watch him. My brow furrowed slightly, and he leaned in. I held my breath for what felt like the millionth time today, and I froze. I was about to ask him what he was doing when he leaned in pressed his lips to my cheek. My eyes fluttered shut and, seemingly involuntarily, I tilted upward a bit to get closer to the touch of his lips.

Then he leaned in a bit more and put his mouth close to my ear. I shivered when he whispered. "The day after tomorrow. I'll see you both then."

I couldn't say anything. I could barely breathe, let alone think about responding to whatever words Scorpius had said. When he leaned back, I looked up at him, and our eyes met. I was stunned and confused and lost and _terrified_. I could get lost in his eyes. I could die just looking at him and wondering what it all meant, what he was doing, what he was trying to say. I wanted to crumble, I was ready, and I wanted to—

"All right, all set."

Hermione's voice smashed the wall that we had apparently built up around us to block out the outside world. I had forgotten where I was, what I was doing, what was happening.

Without a word, I walked around Scorpius and put my shaking body in the back seat next to Leo's seat. I relaxed and stared at the face that had already begun to look so much like his father's. I caressed his head with my thumb, and his eyes opened. When I looked into his eyes, I forgot about the eyes that had just had me temporarily spellbound because, right now, these eyes in front of me were the only eyes that mattered.

* * *

"Home sweet home."

I rolled my eyes as Hermione plopped down onto the sofa next to me while I nursed Leo. Hermione had already spent the last hour cleaning up my already clean flat after we had gotten back from the hospital. She had already talked to Ron once through the floo and twice on her mobile. He had asked if I was okay about fifteen times before I finally had to leave the room and wait for them to finish up.

I cuddled Leo closer to me and smiled down at him as I caressed his head. His hair was white blonde and I could barely see it on his head. It made him look angelic.

"So," Hermione started. I tensed a bit. I knew that tone. This was her we-need-to-talk-but-I-don't-want-you-to-feel-threatened tone. I was well versed. "You and Scorpius…"

And there it was.

"Hermione—"

I glanced at her and she held her hands up in surrender. "I'm just asking." She lifted her legs up and crossed one ankle over the other on my coffee table.

"There's nothing to know."

"Look," she started, turning her body slightly toward mine. I kept my eyes focused on Leo. "There's obviously not _nothing_." I opened my mouth to interrupt, but she held up a hand to stop me. "All I know is that he was there the entire time. From the moment Albus called him until we left, he was there. I told him he could leave probably a dozen times, and he would either ignore me or insist it was all right. He really only left your side to yell at nurses on your behalf or to go check on Leo." Hermione reached out and gently squeezed Leo's socked foot. She continued playing with his foot and smiled to herself as if remembering something.

"It's complicated," I said when she didn't immediately continue. I hoped that would settle the conversation, but I knew my mother. I knew her very, _very_ well.

"Did you know that it took your father about seven or eight different tries over the course of three years for me to agree to marry him?"

I snorted. "He's mentioned it one or a hundred times." I glanced at her and she still had that reminiscent smile on her face as she stared at Leo's feet.

Hermione chuckled a bit to herself. "Yes, he wasn't happy then, and he's certainly not one to let things go." She shook her head, smiling, still to herself.

When she didn't elaborate on her statements, after about a minute, I said, "What does this have to do—?"

"I was terrified of marriage. I was… terrified of commitment in general." Her smile faded a bit and she looked up at me. I pulled Leo away from my chest and covered myself up. He had finished and was already slumbering peacefully. I envied him.

A frown found its way to the middle of Hermione's eyebrows. I pulled Leo a bit closer to me. "Do you know what it's like to lose nearly every person you love—do you know what it's like to watch your best friend lose every single person he has ever looked to as a parent or to watch your other best friend weep over the body of his dead brother?"

It felt as if a cold fist had clenched my heart. My parents almost never talked about the _War_—not to us, their kids, anyway. They talked in hushed tones to each other sometimes, late at night when they thought we were all asleep, while, occasionally, Teddy, Albus, James, Hugo, Lily and I would sit on the stairs and listen. They talked about it on the anniversary of my Uncle Fred's death or Teddy's parents'. But like this—using it to _explain_ or to help us _understand_—they never talked to us like this. I found myself not wanting to hear another word but also desperately craving to know more about my parents and their lives and their bravery and their sacrifice and their loss—craving to just _know_.

"Hermione—"

"It takes its toll, Rose. It makes you afraid of… even the littlest things." Hermione paused briefly. "I think Harry had it the worst. Obviously." She nodded, staring at a spot on the floor. "And Ron… He liked to act like he was fine, but I knew he wasn't. I knew…" Her frown deepened as if she was trying to find the right words. "I knew as soon as it was over that it would never… really—not really—be over. I knew that Harry would have nightmares for a long time. I knew that Ron would miss Fred every single day for the rest of his life. I knew… I didn't think I would ever be able to heal—to _love_ in _real_ and _full_ way." She looked at me and the pain I saw in her eyes winded me. "I thought there would always be a piece of my heart missing. I thought I would never be able to speak to my parents again—"

"Mimi and Grandpa?" I couldn't stop myself from interrupting, starved for information. "Why?" I knew there was something—there was something about _then_ that my mother never talked about. But then there was a lot from before us that she didn't talk about.

She sighed and looked down again. "Before your father and Uncle Harry and I left—before we went to find the Horcruxes"—that was something I knew about. If not from my mother, then from all the magical history classes I had taken at Hogwarts—"I… Rose I've never told you this because I don't like to think about it. I was… It was a hard time for me. And it's not that I don't want you and your brother to know, it's that I'm not strong enough to remember—"

I reached out and grabbed her hand and she paused and looked at me. "Mum…" I watched the way her soft brown eyes widened slightly in surprise like they did every time I called her "mum" and not "Hermione." I smiled. "You're the strongest person I know."

She laughed lightly and I saw the tears flood her eyes. She squeezed my hand and took a deep breath. "I did a Memory Charm," she started quietly. It was difficult for me to withhold my surprise, and I almost laughed because my mother and I clearly had more in common than I thought. "I did a Memory Charm and I sent them away so they could be safe and happy and forget about me."

Involuntarily, I covered my mouth. It was horrifying. As much as I pretended like I didn't _care_—like nothing _mattered_—the thought of Ron and Hermione leaving and never remembering me and living their lives happy without even know I was here, that I was apart of them, was almost too terrible to imagine. For a brief moment, a dark thought crossed my mind. _I would rather they were dead_. I quickly erased it. Of course I wouldn't. I knew I wouldn't because I knew that, like my mother, I would do _anything_ to protect my family. I glanced down at Leo and then back up at Hermione.

"Eventually I found them—" She smiled weakly. "Rose, do you have any idea how difficult it is to reverse a memory charm?" I shrugged, still too stunned and a bit shaken to speak. "It's not impossible, but it's damn difficult. But…" Hermione shook her head quickly as if clearing her head. "The point is that—that's not my point… Rose, my point is that loss is hard. And it scares us, but we can't let it _cripple_ us. It's okay to be afraid and it's okay to be cautious, but Rose…"

Her dark eyes searched mine, and in that moment I realized how much we looked alike. The slight upturn of her nose, the curvature of her lips, the exact placement of her cheekbones, the shape of her eyes—it all mirrored mine. My skin was paler and slightly more freckled, my hair was Weasley red and hers was a light chestnut brown streaked with gray, but looking at her I could see my future and I was glad for it. My mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and I hadn't realized it until now.

I hung onto her words as she spoke. "You can't let the fear stop you from getting what you want… from having the life you deserve."

"I'm so scared, mum," I whispered in a shaky voice. It was the first time I had said it out loud. It didn't relieve me to say it like I thought it would. If anything it made me more afraid. I could feel the backs of my eyes burning with unshed tears.

"I know, Rose," Hermione said. "I know you are, but you shouldn't be." She smiled widely at me. "That boy _loves_ you. He—"

"He left me."

"I know." Then she glanced around as if someone might hear. I gave her a look. "Can I let you in on something?" I nodded. "Your father left me once."

_That_ shocked me. Almost more than anything she had just said. "WHAT?"

I loved my father. I did. But there was no doubt in my mind that my mother was way out of his league. I couldn't imagine a reason why he would leave.

Hermione laughed. "It was before we were really together, but he left out of fear and anger, and you know what? It took a while, but I forgave him. I realized there are more important things to be afraid of, rather than constantly worrying that the person I love will leave."

"What if he leaves again?" I could hear the fear in my own voice.

"Oh, honey." My mother took one look at my face and immediately pulled me into a hug. The floodgates broke. I couldn't take it anymore. I just needed to get this out—to _feel_, to _acknowledge_, and to _embrace_ my fear. I had to get through this. I _would_. I _could_. Vaguely, I registered that my mother was talking to me. "—loves you," she was saying. "Twice…" She caressed my hair. "I walked in on him talking to you… One was a memory, but the other… Rose, he wants a future with you. I saw it in his eyes—I saw the fear he felt at losing you. It was the same way I looked when I thought we were going to lose your father. It was—"

Suddenly a thought occurred to me and I pulled back from my mother and wiped my face quickly. The thought at once terrified and excited me. "Wait. Hold on, mum, what were you saying before—"

"What—"

"About him talking to me—"

"Oh, yes—"

"What did he say?"

"I shouldn't have listened, I was just so—"

"That doesn't matter—what did he _say_?"

Hermione smiled to herself as she recalled what she clearly thought was a very sweet moment. I tried not to roll my eyes—she was such a romantic.

"One had to be a memory…" She frowned, trying to remember…

"_Rose… please… please come back." His face was buried into the hospital bed, his hands clutching Rose's in his fist. "Please wake up. Hey… Rose, hey, remember when we were in bed together, and I"—he laughed shakily and looked up—"I told you that one day I would marry you and we would live together by Hogwarts and you were so happy. That smile… Rose come back. Remember that you promised to marry me." He put his head on Rose's stomach. "Just remember."_

"Oh my god." I covered my mouth.

"And the other… A wish… A dream maybe…" Hermione smiled. "It was so… beautiful…"

"_We're gonna go to our spot, Rose. You're going to wake up and we're going to get married and we're going to be happy. And we're going to go to our spot, and you're going to be wearing that blue dress I love. And we're going to bring our son to our spot, and we…" He sat up, getting excited, but never letting go of her hand. "We're gonna have a little girl, too. She'll have your hair, your spirit. She—Rose just wake up and we can have that life together." He bent forward and pressed his forehead to hers. "Wake up."_

"It was very sweet—"

"Mum—"

"He loves you, Rose, and he regrets leaving and I'm sure—"

"No, mum, listen to me." I put Leo in her arms and turned so I could sit on my knees and face her. She smiled and pulled Leo close. "Mum." Hermione looked up at me. "I saw those things."

"What do you mean?"

"That memory—of him telling me we would get married—I—mum, I _saw_ that when I was unconscious, and that—oh my god—that—him saying we were going to go to our spot and I would wear the blue dress—I dreamed that!"

"Rose…" Hermione frowned. She looked off for a minute and then back at me. "Those exact things?"

"Yes!"

"The least understood kind of magic there is," Hermione said more to herself than to me.

"What?"

Hermione looked at me. "Love," she said simply. She shook her head, smiling, and then looked back down at Leo. She touched his head lightly. "It is unfathomable magic. I think it's what saved your father… Not even Dumbledore understood it."

"Dumble—Hermione, what does that mean?"

She looked up at me. "It means I'm your mother, and I'm always right."

I threw myself back onto the couch in exasperation. _Now what_?

* * *

_A/N: You didn't think I could go on letting you hate Scorpius, did you? _

_Okay, that was wicked fast, right? It hasn't even been a week since the last update! I'm really proud of myself... IT'S FINE JUST LET ME HAVE THIS. So, first of all, your responses to the last chapter were honestly fucking amazing. Seriously, you guys... You guys just rule. Second of all, this chapter and the next chapter were supposed be one but I had to break it up because it was seriously getting really out of control. Like almost 10K words. WUT. So the next chapter just needs to be edited and it'll be done! It should be up in the coming week... Aren't you proud of me? Your amazing reviews of the last chapter motivated me to hurry up and get this chapter up, so maybe if your reviews are equally amazing for this chapter (but really, when aren't they?) that will make me update super quick...! Yes, I'm bribing you. No, I don't care. So anyway, give me your thoughts, go to my tumblr for updates/previews (info on my profile page), and just keep being your perfect selves in general. xxxxxx_


	7. You Hold Onto It

**Chapter 7**: **You Hold Onto It**

_We forget that we are strong, and we forget that the human body is resilient and is able to withstand so much of what we put it through._

* * *

"Sh sh sh, oh my god." Leo let out a renewed wail, and I held him in my arms, bouncing on the balls of my feet. I was holding him so that his head was right over my heart. Tracey had told me to hold him close to me so he could feel my heartbeat when he was upset. She told me that babies were often scared when they got home for the first time since they were used to the womb and the hospital and our world was a scary place and they needed a smooth transition and for that, they needed to feel the assurance of closeness. I understood that. She told me that they needed to feel safe and close to their mothers, and I was trying. Goddammit. I was doing that—_GODDAMMIT, TRACEY, I'M DOING THAT—_but nothing helped.

Leo had been screaming for the better part of an hour and nothing helped. I changed him, I fed him, I held him, I rocked him, I sang to him—nothing worked. No matter what I did, he remained absolutely fucking miserable.

I sighed heavily and glanced at the clock above the television.

_3:04_.

Luckily—_FUCKING LUCKILY_—my flat had Silencing Charms around it so my poor neighbors wouldn't be able to hear the screams of the child who hated me. Luckily they wouldn't hear the woman in 3B, whose child was either dying or was just playing some cruel joke on his poor mother.

I bounced on the balls of my feet so long that my calves started to ache, so I resorted to walking around the flat, trying to keep Leo close to my heart while praying to _whoever_ could possibly be listening that my son just _please stop_ _crying_.

This was the fifth night in a row like this. I'd had to call Scorpius and tell him he couldn't come over like we'd planned. I told him I was sick and staying with my parents. He was disappointed, bordering on angry, but—with what I could imagine was barely contained rage—he said through clenched teeth to call when I was better, obviously understanding that I had just gotten home from a weeklong stay at the hospital so things might be touch and go for a while.

Little did he know that the real reason was because I hadn't slept in almost a week and if he came over I knew I would just burst into tears and beg him to never leave.

I just… God, I just couldn't let him see me like this—I couldn't let him see me completely failing as a mother. It hadn't even been a week and I had already utterly fucking blown it. If Scorpius were to come… My god, he would probably take one look at me, grab Leo, and run for the hills.

"Leo, please… Jesus…" I could hardly hear my own voice over his blood-curdling cries. "What can I do? I've done everything."

I was exhausted—completely and utterly exhausted. _I'm so bloody tired._ My eyes burned from lack of sleep and my brain was a foggy lump of mush. Every single one of my muscles ached with fatigue, from the top of my head to the tips of my… _what are those things called…?_ Toes. Yes, to the tips of my toes. I hadn't bathed properly in almost a week and I couldn't remember the last time I had just been able to… I just… I needed… _What was it I needed?_ I didn't—I couldn't—_I CAN'T THINK!_

I _couldn't. Bloody. Think_. What—where was that pacifier? I conjured it with my wand and tried to put it in his mouth, but each time he wouldn't take it. His mouth just stayed agape, emitting scream after fucking _scream_.

"Leo…" I felt my chin quiver and I swallowed. I walked back toward the sitting room and tilted my head back. "Dammit, Rose." I couldn't cry. I wouldn't cry. If I cried, I would lose it and I wouldn't be able to stop crying. I would lose any mild semblance of control that I had. I would—I was just so tired and I didn't—"I don't know what to do." My voice broke.

And there we were. Leo Arthur Malfoy and Rose Ginevra Weasley—two complete babies who desperately needed someone's, _anyone's_, help—who would do anything to have everything be right with the world—but who no one could possibly help. Two babies who needed _something_, but who knew what it was?

I felt the tears streaming down my face as I walked to my couch and laid him down. His screams—although I couldn't possibly imagine how—got louder. I laid down next to him on the edge of the couch to block him from the ground and just begged him to stop crying.

I turned and grabbed the bottle off the coffee table that I had set there an hour ago when I had tried to feed him, hoping that that was the source of his despair. I tried to feed him again, but he didn't want to be fed. He didn't want to be fed, he didn't to be changed, he didn't want to be held by me. He clearly wanted something, and obviously—_WHATEVER THE FUCK IT WAS_—I couldn't provide it.

The night before when I couldn't bear it anymore, I had taken him to the hospital. After three nights, I knew it couldn't—surely it couldn't _possibly_—be anything I was doing—I knew this wasn't normal—this couldn't be _normal_—so I took him to the hospital with fear lancing through my heart, knowing that they were going to tell me something was horribly wrong. Because something had to be horribly wrong.

Tracey, along with the other nurses and doctors on duty, had checked him out at my insistence, but had all resorted to shooting me sympathetic looks after they assured me that Leo was fine.

"Babies cry," Tracey had told me simply as Leo slumbered peacefully against her large bosom.

I had watched her with wonder in my eyes. He had slept nearly throughout our entire visit to the hospital. I had hoped that the worst was over. I had laid him in his crib for ten minutes when we got back to the flat before he started screaming again.

I put the bottle back on the table and glanced at the clock above the television again. _4:22._

Leo's cries had changed to agonized hiccoughs with intermittent wails in between. This was typically how it went each night. After two or three hours of constant and persistent screaming with me begging him to stop, he would finally tire himself out to the point that he would fall asleep.

I watched him, still silently begging him, until he fell asleep. When he finally hiccoughed himself into unconsciousness, I just stared at the ceiling, thankful and tired and scared and miserable.

I couldn't. _I can't_. Nothing was going right. _This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. Leo. Scorpius. All of it. Everything. It was supposed to be different. It was… supposed to be… something… It shouldn't… I didn't… What was I going to…?_

* * *

_Mmm… coffee_…

Something smelled like heaven.

Something smelled like…

_Coffee_.

And…

_Mmm… bacon_.

My eyes fluttered open. I was on my stomach, my limbs sprawled out, my right leg hanging off the edge of the couch. I turned my head to look at the clock over the television. _11:41_.

11… _What_?

And then—_HOLY SHIT_—I jumped up.

_I crushed him. I killed him. I killed my son. I_—

"Well, good morning to you."

I looked over into my kitchen where my mother—_my mother?_—was standing, her hair in a loose knot at the base of her neck, Leo in one arm while she flipped bacon with her free hand. She laid down the spatula and turned to face me.

And, naturally, as soon as I saw her smiling at me, I burst into tears.

"Oh! Oh, honey," I heard Hermione say as I collapsed back onto the couch, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed uncontrollably.

I glanced up and watched as Hermione walked over to where I was sitting on the sofa, my knees bent in front of me and my face buried in my knees. When she sat across from me, I wiped my face and she nudged at my legs with her elbow. I put my legs down and she put Leo's sleeping form in my arms.

"Mum—"

I heard a thump outside my front door and I whipped my head around to see my father walking through the door.

"They were out of those cinnamon crunch ones that Cheeks likes," he said quietly, as if he was trying not to wake anyone—_that would be me_—"But I got cinnamon raisin so I hope that's good." He pulled the key out of the door and looked up. "Oh, you're up. Rosie?" He looked concerned as he walked in and shut the door behind him and saw my face red and splotchy and streaked with tears and my mother beside me. "What happened?"

"What are you guys doing here?"

Ron walked over to the counter and put down the bagels. "Granny flooed," he said.

"I put fruit and yogurt in the refrigerator," Hermione said to him. "No bacon for you."

He shot her a dirty look over his shoulder. My mother just smirked.

"Granny—why—is everyone okay?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing—"

"Yes, honey, everyone is fine," Hermione said as Ron riffled through the refrigerator, voice muffled. "Second shelf—that bowl, yes—no, Granny's clock." Hermione turned back to me. "You know Granny's old clock with the whole families' hands on it?"

I nodded.

Granny—my father's mother—had this magical clock. It used to only have hands for Granny and Grandad, my father, my aunt, and uncles. When the family expanded over the years, the clock expanded. The size of the clock grew along with the number of hands on the clock. Now it had a hand for me and every single one of my cousins. It was pretty outrageous at this point, but there was something endearing about it—something about it that made me feel safe and secure and loved.

"She flooed last night and said that your hand changed," Ron called from the kitchen.

"Ronald Weasley, get away from that bacon."

I glanced over and saw my father's hand hovering over the plate. I covered my mouth with my hand and snorted.

"I was just going to bring some over for Rose," he said, although the forced attempt at innocence in his voice suggested quite the opposite.

"Yeah, okay, Ron. You're forgetting I've known you for over thirty years. Bring her a plate with eggs and bacon—"

"Coffee, too, please," I called to him, trying not to laugh at him with his hands caught in the cookie jar.

"Anyway," Hermione said to me, still glancing at my father occasionally. "Granny said your hand changed."

I frowned and then it dawned on me. "Oh, I went to the hospital the other night—"

"You went to the hospital?" both of my parents exclaimed together.

"I—" I opened my mouth and closed it. My mother took Leo out of my arms as my father placed a plate of eggs and bacon in my hands and then sat in the chair catty-corner across from us. He sat on the edge of the chair, eating yogurt and looking concerned.

"Hermione—"

"They're flaxseeds, Ronald. No, she didn't say you went to the hospital. Last night she said it changed to 'lost.'"

The feeling of incredulity and near devastation washed over me instantly.

"It said I was lost?"

"You went to the hospital?"

I looked at Ron, who was looking at me with expectant eyes.

I shook my head. "It was nothing. Leo—he—he won't stop crying." I put down the plate Ron had given me, untouched. My appetite had vanished. "Mum…" I glanced at Leo was starting to stir a bit. "He hates me."

"Rose—"

"Honey, no."

"Yes, mum. He does. He hates me. He just… God, he won't stop crying—"

"Cheeks, he's a baby."

"I know that, Ron. I know. But… like, look." I gestured toward my mother. "When Hermione holds him he's peaceful. When I took him to the hospital he stopped crying when the nurses held him. When I touch him he goes ballistic."

"All the time?" Hermione asked gently.

I shrugged, knowing she was trying to make a point. "Well… no, not always, but—"

"Let me tell you a story," Hermione said. I looked at her warily. She smiled. "Rose, when you were a baby, you cried a lot—"

I scoffed. "Oh, so you're saying I deserve this. 'You reap what you sew.'"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no, not at all. Although wait until he's about 13 and starts calling you by your first name and rolling his eyes at every word you say. Then I'll start telling you you've reaped what you've sewn." She arched an eyebrow at me and I rolled my eyes. Leo started to fuss a bit and she passed him to me. "I think he's hungry."

I nodded and took him from her. I glanced at my father who was shoveling down his yogurt. I pulled out my breast for Leo to nurse just as my father set his bowl of yogurt down and looked up. My eyes widened when he looked up.

"Oh, please," he said with a wave of his hand. "I've seen your mother and your aunts do this hundreds of times. I've been desensitized. And I changed your diapers."

Hermione laughed and I glared at both of them.

"Well things have changed quite a bit since then," I said as I pulled Leo towards me. I winced a bit.

He shrugged. "Go on with your story, babe."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Yes, well, you cried a lot. When you were a baby, your father and I decided that we would take turns staying at home for the first year. I would stay home for a month and then your father would."

"Sounds progressive," I said with a smirk.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at me but then went on. "Well, your father said he would stay home for the first month. So I went to work. When that first month was over I was so excited to come back to you. I couldn't wait to spend the month with you. You were the most beautiful baby in the world."

"Those blue eyes," Ron said, smiling to himself.

My mother nodded in agreement. "But when I got back… It was a rough month. You cried… _incessantly_. I mean, you would scream bloody murder and never stop. And there was nothing I could do to make it better. You would cry and cry all day except when you were asleep. And then your father would come home and pick you up and you would _smile_. I was _sick_—I mean absolutely sick with jealousy.

"One day, after about four months of this, I finally broke down. One night Ron and I were about to go to bed." She laughed and looked over at dad. "I remember you were reading _Pride and Prejudice_ because Ginny had said something about you lacking all sense of romance and that maybe Mr. Darcy could teach you something and she teased you about when the last time you'd actually read a book was." She smiled at him and he scoffed good-naturedly, murmuring about how he knew plenty about romance. And I watched them and I was so envious of the love they shared that it nearly killed me in that moment.

I watched them while they were remembering me, remembering the beginning of the family they had created together, and I envied their love. I wanted what they had.

The realization struck me.

_I want what my parents have_. Love, mutual respect, deep and everlasting friendship with someone you would die for. I wanted that.

And I wanted it with Scorpius.

The thought didn't even shock me. But the fact that it didn't made me a bit unsettled.

"I told Ron that you hated me and that I couldn't do this," Hermione's voice interrupted my thoughts. I frowned and listened to her, trying to erase the thoughts that had occupied my mind. "And that if we didn't have a mother-daughter connection now we never would. Nonsense like that. That night we laid in bed and I just sobbed and sobbed. I was so afraid that you hated me. I was so afraid that I was doing everything wrong and that I was going to screw you up and that you would never have a good mother. I was so worried, and Ron just listened to my insane ravings and told me everything would be okay.

"And then one day it was." She sighed and smiled. Then she reached forward and put a hand on my knee. "One day… I remember you were about four months old—it was toward the end of our second full month together. I was holding you and waiting for you to fall asleep for a nap while I was reading something for work. At one point I moved the paper and put it on the table." She mimicked the motion and curled her arm up like she was holding an invisible baby. "And I looked down at you and you were… smiling at me. You had pulled a piece of my hair into your hands and you were looking up at me with those _beautiful_ blue eyes—I mean, you had the most beautiful blue eyes. You still do," she said, laughing to herself.

"And those cheeks," my father said, smiling and shaking his head.

Hermione laughed. "Those cheeks!" She grinned at me. "But those huge blue eyes on an adorable baby, I mean, I could stare at them for hours. And you were looking _right at me_. And you were _smiling_."

Hermione looked up at me. "You know I loved you since the moment you were born—since the moment they placed you in my arms, I fell in love with you. But in that moment… in that moment when you looked at me and you were smiling, I loved you more than I had ever loved anything. And"—she chuckled—"I knew I was being stupid and that you couldn't possibly hate me."

I looked down at Leo, who had finished eating and was now gazing at me. I lifted the strap of my tank to cover myself up and looked back at him.

"Look at him," my mother said. "He couldn't possibly hate you. You gave him _life_ and—"

"And besides that, honey, he's a _baby_," my father said with a laugh. "Babies do not have the capacity to hate. They only know how to love."

Hermione nodded. "Your father is absolutely right—"

"Wow," Ron interrupted. "Say that again. I never get to hear that."

Hermione rolled her eyes and looked over at him. "Well, don't get used to it," she said before turning back to me. "As _rarely_ as it happens," she amended, "your father is right. He can't hate you. He doesn't know how to hate. He hasn't been hurt and damaged by the world yet."

I looked down into his gray eyes that were just like Scorpius's. He was so pure. So innocent. No one had hurt him. He wasn't bitter or jaded or afraid of getting his heart broken. He wasn't scared of anything except for being hungry and having a full diaper or not being held. I smiled. He was perfect and tiny, and I would do whatever I could to make him happy and safe. I was his mother and I loved him, and, really, that was all he needed. And I realized my mother was right. He couldn't hate me. The only thing it took for a baby to love you was to love him as much as he needed to be. And I loved him more than I could possibly imagine, and that was all that mattered.

"Cheeks."

I looked up at my father.

"There's another thing you should know." I nodded to show I was listening, and he continued. "Raising a baby is hard. It's terrifying the first time you do it, and it's mostly just trial and error and hoping you don't screw up completely." My mother was nodding and smiling. "We were scared, but the thing is… We had each other. Rose." He reached over to take my mother's hand and she gripped it, looking at him. "You are not alone."

Immediately, my eyes welled with tears, and I gave them a watery smile.

"You have got your mother and I, your brother, Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry, Albus, and about a thousand cousins, friends, aunts, and uncles who would do anything for you and that baby." He tilted his head slightly as if to tell me to really take that in. I swallowed. "I'm serious, sweetheart," he said. "You've got an army of people who love you who would jump if you asked. I know you pride yourself on being this independent and strong woman, and you are." I looked down. My parents had no idea how weak I was, how much I needed everyone around me. I pretended to be strong, but I wasn't. "You really are," Ron emphasized as if he read my thoughts, and I looked back up. "And we are so proud of that woman that you've become." My mother looked at me and nodded in agreement. "But raising a baby is hard enough, and doing it on your own is nearly impossible. And you don't have to do it alone. Do you understand?"

I nodded quickly, trying to fight back the tears that desperately wanted to fall. And I wanted to believe that he was right—that I was independent and strong—but I just knew that I wasn't. In the past few years all of my independence had completely fallen by the wayside. I had found myself dependent on Scorpius and Hadley before him and the way they made me feel. I couldn't be that way anymore. I had to depend on me. I had to do that for me, and for Leo.

"Thanks, dad," I said hoarsely.

Ron held up a hand. "I'm not finished."

"Uh-oh," my mum said with a laugh. I smiled at her and looked back at Ron.

He glared at both of us and continued. "You don't just have us and the rest of the family… Rose…" A crease formed between Ron's eyebrows. "You have Scorpius."

I barely contained a gasp.

From the first moment that my father had found out that Scorpius was my boyfriend, he had been more than a little skeptical. To say the least. He also hadn't tried hard at all to hide his displeasure. My mother's mantra to him had been, "Ronald, he's not Draco," but that didn't stop my father from narrowing his eyes any time he laid eyes on Scorpius. And it certainly didn't stop him from nearly overturning the kitchen table when I first brought Scorpius home to meet my parents and to explain things. My father wanted to know if he had manipulated me somehow when the realization dawned that we had started seeing each other when I was still at Hogwarts. When he saw how happy Scorpius made me, he had backed off only slightly, his love for me outweighing his disdain for the Malfoy family.

When Scorpius had broken up with me, it was the first time that I had actually been afraid of my father. When he saw me curled up on my couch I thought he would go to the ends of the earth to find Scorpius and murder him. It was terrifying, but also strangely sweet.

But this… This was huge. For Ron to acknowledge that Scorpius had made me happy and that he was a person that was worth my time… Man, I must have looked really desperate and pathetic.

"Dad—"

"Now, I know I've never liked him much—"

I scoffed.

"Understatement of the year," Hermione murmured.

"—_but_ he is Leo's father, and…" He looked almost pained to be saying it. "He loves you."

The smirk that I had been wearing at my father swallowing his pride slipped immediately. "What—"

"He loves you, Cheeks. He was at your side during this whole thing, even more than I was, probably even more than Hermione was." Hermione nodded and looked at me smugly. I would have rolled my eyes but I was too stunned to do anything. "I know he hurt you, and as much as I wanted to—" He held his hands up in a strangling motion and then dropped them and grimaced.

"You don't come across a love like that often," Ron said. He glanced at my mother and grabbed her hand again. She smiled at him adoringly and he looked at her for a long moment before he looked back at me. "But when you do, you hold onto it."

* * *

After my parents left, I had stared at Leo, watching him watch me or look around the rest of the room. I watched him until he fell asleep and then I studied him in my arms, wanting to memorize the way he looked—happy and peaceful and content and safe in my arms. I touched his face and kissed him and smelled him and held him close.

Eventually it started to get dark, so I brought him to his cradle, knowing that he would be up soon anyway, either hungry, needing to be changed, or just wanting to be noticed.

I walked around my flat, replaying the conversation with my parents over and over and over in my head.

"_You don't come across a love like that often."_

My father… I almost laughed out loud… He despised Scorpius, to put it lightly. He truly did. And for him to…

"_But when you do, you hold onto it."_

I turned on the stove and filled up my kettle with water. Then I leaned against the counter, staring at the bouquet of flowers that Ainsley and Meg had sent me, still thinking.

"_He loves you."_

Scorpius had said he wanted me back when we had talked in the hospital that first night that I woke up. He told me he _wanted me back_. Words that I truly and deeply never thought I would hear him say. And it was one thing for my mother—the hopeless fucking romantic—and Albus—always and forever charmed by Scorpius—to tell me to give him another chance, but for my _father_—Ronald Weasley, eternal hater of the Malfoys—to be in his corner. Jesus. The writing was on the wall.

"…_you hold onto it."_

My kettle started to sing, interrupting my thoughts. I poured it over the bag of chamomile, splashed a bit of milk in and then walked to my bedroom.

I was staring at Leo's crib, sipping tea, when I heard my mobile vibrating.

I glanced at my bedside table, gasped, and then scrambled to put down my tea and answer.

"Hello?" I said, slightly breathlessly.

"Hi."

God, his voice melted over me like melted, sweet, flowing chocolate, seeping into my veins and lighting me up. It was incredible and surreal to hear his voice again, almost as if no time had passed. But time _had_ passed, things had _changed_, and now…

"Scorpius." I moved to sit on my bed, crossing my legs under me.

I heard a small intake of breath and then, "How are you?"

"Fine," I said quietly. "Tired."

"I bet." I heard the smile in his voice. Then his voice changed, tensed, grew more serious. "Rose, we need to talk." He paused.

"I know."

"And I want to see Leo."

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. "I know."

There was a long pause and then he exhaled. "I have to see you."

"Thursday," I breathed in a rush. His voice was doing strange things to my insides and the sooner I got him off the phone, the better. "I'll make you dinner."

"You don't have—"

"I want to." Even I recognized the desperation in my voice, the need.

"Okay," he said a bit hoarsely. "Thursday."

"Okay."

"Time?"

"Seven."

There was another pause, and the only sound I could hear was my own erratic breathing.

"Rose, I can't wait to see you," he whispered.

I gasped and then immediately fumbled, trying to hang up the phone before I said something needy, something that would give away all my inner thoughts and fears. I finally clicked the button and tossed the phone across the bed like it was a hot potato.

Then I started replaying it over and over, naturally.

"_Rose, I can't wait_—"

I was never more thankful for anything in the world when Leo started crying.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, so, first of all, thank you for your AS ALWAYS amazing reviews. It is obvious to me that so many of you are really invested in these two, and I'm so glad because so am I! You all have lots of things you want to happen in these chapters, and I hope that I can make everyone happy with how everything develops._

_So just an FYI, this story is going to be full of Rose considering how she can possibly forgive Scorpius after everything that happened (obviously) and about Rose really rebuilding and discovering who she is as a person and a mother, with and without Scorpius. She will do this through flashbacks, conversations with people who love her (just like chapters 6 and 7), and through music. These three themes will be very present in this story as you will come to notice. Chapters 8 and 12 in particular make a lot of use of flashback. I know some people aren't fond of flashbacks, but I'm the writer and I love it, SO IT'S HAPPENING. Some of the flashbacks will be from WU, but some of them will be moments you haven't seen before that have only existed in my head, and they are important. I mean, to me, everything that goes on in Rose's head is important, but what do I know? Don't think that anything is filler. I choose the particular flashbacks and conversations and songs/musical moments for very specific reasons so pay attention. This story is largely about Rose's journey, and the beginning especially is her doing her own soul searching, without Scorpius. So if Scorpius doesn't seem to be present much in the next couple chapters, don't be alarmed! And just know that there is a method to my madness._

_Okay that's enough rambling for now BYE._


	8. Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops

**Chapter 8**: **Trouble Melts Like Lemon Drops**

_I forgot you were strong. I forgot who you are. _

* * *

"Coffee, please. Coffee, yes, coffee."

"Did you want coffee?"

I looked up at Guy Géroux, the manager of Founders Four, and laughed breathlessly as he looked at me incredulously with a slight smirk on his face. The waiter shuffled away as I pushed Leo's pram next to our table and pulled up the visor to block the sun. He was sleeping, thankfully, but I had brought a huge bag full of tricks just in case he started to fuss, including some calming draughts that my mother insisted wouldn't make me a terrible mother if I used and just put a few drops in his milk. I plopped the bag down on the other side of my chair and then slumped into the chair, out of breath.

"It's warm out today, huh?" I said as I took off my cardigan and threw it on top of Leo's bag. Underneath the cardigan I was wearing a black v-neck t-shirt and black leggings. Although I hadn't gained too much baby weight and much of it was gone already, my boobs were honestly just fucking _huge_, so I looked down briefly to adjust my shirt to make sure the girls weren't out too much. Although, they really had a mind of their own these days, so who knew how much it would even help.

I looked up at Guy and caught him looking at my chest before he looked back up at me. He smirked when I arched an eyebrow, completely unashamed that he had been caught staring. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him, as I essentially did every single time I saw him, and then I noticed his usual stubble was longer than when I had last seen him.

"What is this?" I said, gesturing toward my jaw and glancing at his.

"What—oh." He touched his dark beard. "I'm trying something new."

Involuntarily, without even having a moment to think about it or consider it, I shivered at the sound of his accent. There was something about that very slight French accent, dusted with the pickup of the accent he'd gotten since living in London that made my insides do strange things. His voice was rich and sultry and melodic, and he knew _exactly_ the affect it had on women. The way he said, "It is pronounced _gee_. _Hard_ 'G'." the first time I had ever met him… Jesus, the memory still haunted me.

Guy was absolutely bloody gorgeous and he knew it. He looked more like a rocker himself, rather than a manager at a record label. He was tall and lean and covered in tattoos. Today he was wearing a dark green button down with the first few button unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up so I could see the sleeve of tattoos on his left arm and the tattoos on his neck. The sleeve on his arm was some sort of nature scene with flora and fauna, a sunset, a moon rising, doves, and a million other things. It turned into a vine at some point that went up to his shoulder blade and to the back of his neck, ending in an orchid. It probably would have been feminine on anyone else, but on him it looked sexy and masculine and powerful and perfect.

Guy was from the south of France, so his features were dark—olive skin, black hair—and almost Spanish looking. His eyes were heavily lidded, adding to his seductive air, and an almond-shaped deep green of which the shirt he wore today brought out the color. His hair was long and shaggy, and he had it pulled back in a ponytail as he occasionally did—again, something that few men could pull off but that he seemed to make look sensuous and effortless. He almost looked roguish, like a pirate, with his slightly hooked nose and strong, square jaw along with his dark features and long black hair. I always compared his jaw to Scorpius's because his was a jaw I had studied with great intensity since I had known him. Guy's jaw wasn't quite as strong as Scorpius's, but it was more square, more defined—it was hard for me to explain the difference in strength and definition, but that's that. He tried to cover up the squareness of it with his facial hair—although I didn't see what he had to be self-conscious about—but it was unmistakable.

He grinned as he felt his new beard and I saw his annoyingly gorgeous smile and the deepening of the crease in his chin. His top teeth were straight and bright white and while his bottom teeth were equally white and dazzling, they were crooked, one lapping over the other. And somehow that imperfection made his entire face even more perfect. It didn't make any bloody sense.

"Do you like it?" Guy asked me, his smile cocky.

I rolled my eyes again—I had a feeling I would be doing a lot of that over this—what he had termed—_business lunch_—and instead of responding I just stared at him and waited for him to get the hell over himself. He knew he looked beautiful no matter what hair was on his face, and I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of answering.

"Miss, can I bring you some food?"

The waiter had returned with my coffee and set it down in front of me. I waved the cream away when he tried to set it down and he pulled it back and held it in front of him. I held up a finger and took a huge swallow of the coffee. It was heavenly.

I had tried to cut back on caffeine when I was pregnant since Hermione had insisted that it was no good for the baby or my relaxation that the baby supposedly _required_, and I usually only drank decaf now since I was nursing, but sometimes I would allow myself this small pleasure—the pleasure of a hot cup of Colombian roast—and it was something I savored like almost nothing else. I had worked to fill up bottles for Leo all morning, knowing that I was meeting Guy at this coffee shop and knowing that I was going to treat myself to the exotic beans that they told their customers they had imported from Colombia once per week. I knew that it didn't seem like a big deal and to most people going to a coffee shop and getting actual coffee with _caffeine_ was nothing really special or exciting, but I had to get joy out of the life's small pleasures these days.

I moaned slightly after I took a second swallow, and then I glanced at Guy who had one eyebrow up and then at the waiter who was shuffling a bit, not knowing at all what he was supposed to do.

"Just this for now," I told him. "This is perfect. Please keep it coming." He smiled and nodded and then hurried away.

"You're going to kill that poor man," Guy said when he was out of earshot. "Moaning like that."

I shook my head. "I don't care. At all. This place has incredible coffee and I haven't had good coffee in months. I hardly even get to leave the house. This is the first time I've been in public in weeks, so I'm sorry to everyone I'm going to offend today." I gestured around the patio on which we were seated that was empty except for a couple on the opposite side, completely enraptured with each other.

Guy laughed, and just like he always did, he laughed with his entire face—his eyes crinkled, his face lifted, everything changed. It always mesmerized me.

"Well, you look good," he said, checking me out—again, shamelessly.

I looked down and took in my appearance. My black v-neck had a spit-up stain from earlier when I had fed Leo along with a dark stain that Guy probably couldn't see but that I knew was strawberry marmalade. My hair was pulled up in a messy bun on top of my head and the only make up I had on was a little pink lip gloss that I had put on before I left, trying to make myself at least mildly presentable.

"Yeah, okay," I said.

Guy laughed again. "Well, how's it going? How's motherhood treating you?"

The mild irritation that Guy had caused to flair up inside me like he always did slipped away at the question, making me temporarily forget why I was here and how absurdly cheeky Guy was. Because, truthfully, despite everything, the fact was that motherhood was phenomenal. The first week or so had been pretty terrifying, what with all the crying (on both my part and Leo's) and me knowing fuck all about being a mother, but once I sort of got the hang of it, it was actually pretty fucking great. Leo was amazing. And even though basically all he did was eat, cry, poop, and sleep, there were other things that he did less often that were… inspiring, joyous, heart-achingly beautiful, and had this way of making up for everything else. Like when he smiled or laughed or when he looked at me with those big gray eyes that I noticed the other day had blue and green specs in them. Or like when he would squeeze my finger and held onto it like it was his lifeline, or the way he looked like an angel at a certain point every morning when the sun was _just so_ and he was still—mercifully—sleeping.

I had grown up around witches and wizards and spells and potions my entire life, but I don't think I ever really knew _magic_ until I knew my Leo.

I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table. "It's actually fucking amazing."

I received one arched eyebrow and a smirk for that remark. "Really?"

I bit my bottom lip briefly, trying to contain my delight. "Yeah. I mean look at that face." I glanced at Leo, who was still sleeping in the designer pram that Aunt Ginny had insisted on buying for me and then back at Guy, who was just watching me. "Fine. Don't look at my angel. Your loss." I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair and glared at him because I knew that the only reason he was so disinterested in what I had to say about Leo was because he wanted all of my attention to be on him. Arrogant bastard. "Just lay it on me already."

He laughed, of course, and leaned back, crossing his arms, mimicking me, _of course_.

"Well, I thought I would start with the niceties."

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck the niceties."

He held up his hands, and I leaned forward to grab my coffee mug. I took two huge swallows, burned my throat, not caring, and glowered at him. Guy had this way… He had this _way_ of getting under my skin. And in recent months, it had gotten worse. He also had this way of pretending to ask for things when he was really demanding them that I hated. But also the way he patronized me in almost the _exact same way_ that Scorpius occasionally did when we were fighting or when he was frustrated with me... I could not begin to explain how tired I was of annoyingly good-looking men edging their way under my skin, nettling me to the point of madness, and making me question myself.

I watched the smirk fade from his face while it was replaced by the look he got when he was doing his asking/demanding thing. I braced myself.

"I want Founders to tour."

The waiter jumped and nearly dropped the scone he was bringing to Guy that he had apparently ordered right before I had arrived—_impatient bastard_—as I laughed obnoxiously, mockingly.

Guy thanked him and told him to bring the coffee pot over so he could refill my nearly empty coffee cup. Then he broke off a piece of his scone and popped it into his mouth, observing me closely. I wiped my eyes of non-existent, mirthful tears, hoping he would really get the full effect of my complete and utter lack of ability to take his request at all seriously.

After about another ten seconds, he arched one beautiful eyebrow again. "Are you finished?"

I wiped the fake smile off my face and clenched my jaw before glaring at him again. "Are you? I mean, honestly, it was a very funny joke."

"What makes you think I'm joking?" Guy asked evenly.

I pulled a look as if I was deeply considering his question. "Hm, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you just asked someone with a newborn baby—who just gave birth and who, I'm not sure if you know, just went through _major surgery_ in order to do so—if she wanted to go on a rock and roll tour."

"Rose—"

"_Guy,_" I mocked. "God, I fucking hate the way you and goddamn Scorpius manage to say my name so absolutely condescendingly." I held out my cup for the waiter who had just returned. "It's practically an art." I took a sip from my cup and put it down after thanking the waiter, who scooted away. "You know, _you_ two should start a band. Call it 'The Patronizers.'" I spread my hands above my head as if displaying a banner. "You would be a hit."

"If you're done, I can explain myself more. But by all means, continue being a sarcastic arsehole."

My jaw fell open, shocked that he would say something like that to me—shocked that he _thought_ he could say something like that to me, especially after the completely ridiculous thing he had just suggested, but instead of throwing something back at him, I clenched my jaw, channeling Hermione, choosing to seethe instead of snap, knowing that I would get him back for that remark at some point.

Guy paused and raised his eyebrows as if giving me a chance to interject, but when I said nothing and continued to silently fume, he continued. "Good. Now, like I said, I would like Founders Four to tour. It doesn't have to be tomorrow or next week, but—"

"When?"

"Like I said—"

"I know you have a date in mind, Guy. You wouldn't have started this conversation if you didn't." I arched an eyebrow, and when he didn't dispute, I said, "So what's the date, _arsehole_?"

I was testing his patience, I knew, because he had made me so angry and he deserved it, but part of me was really enjoying riling him up, especially when he was doing a fantastic job of doing the same to me. It was just like riling Scorpius up—they both made it so easy. And he _was _legitimately pissing me off. A lot.

"Christmastime."

I tried not to react. I didn't scream with sardonic laughter. I didn't roll my eyes. I didn't gape at him or yell in his face or do any of the number of things I wanted to do. Instead, I took a deep breath, and channeled the two most patronizing people I knew.

"Guy," I started slowly as if I was explaining something to a five-year-old who had just gotten himself caught doing something he knew was wrong. "I think there's something you're just not understanding. This boy here"—I pointed at Leo, my tone lofty—"is not even two weeks old. I'm not going to take away his first Christmas with his mother by going on tour—"

"You can bring him."

"Oh!" I said with mock surprise. "Well, that makes a difference!" I rolled my eyes. "Are you kidding, Guy? I told you and the label that I was having a baby. You _all_—each and every one of you_, including you_—made it seem as if that was okay, that I could take the time I needed. I told you that it would probably be a while before I was able to go on the road, and again, you _all_ made it seem as if that was fine. And now you're telling me you want me to go on tour in two months, but it's fine because, hey, I can bring my _baby_. Seriously?"

"All right—"

"I mean, this has to be a joke." I had tried to channel Hermione. I had tried to channel Guy and Scorpius, but I couldn't. And now the only person I was channeling was Rose Weasley… okay, and maybe a little bit of my father and Uncle Harry. And my ire was up. "At Christmas he will still be less than three months old. He will still be tiny, and you think I want to bring him on _tour_? And not only that, but I have his father to think about. I highly doubt he'd be cool with me taking his son away for two months—"

"Four months."

"Excuse me?"

Guy sighed. "The label wants the tour to be continental. So it would be four months. And you didn't seem too keen on what his father wanted when you were keeping the pregnancy a secret."

I gaped and stared at him in complete shock. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to ask him how he even knew about any of my business. I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, and in that moment, for a brief enraged flash of time, I wanted to just quit the band. Screw the label, screw everyone. I wanted to do something drastic and _permanent_ and lasting and bloody _delirious_ because I wasn't going to let this guy who didn't even know me talk to me as if he knew anything—absolutely fucking _anything_—about what I had been through over the past six months. I wanted to scream, I wanted to lose all semblance of control, but instead… Instead I took a deep breath and spoke in a cold, calculating voice. "You're doing a terrible job of making your case."

Guy smiled lightly and I nearly slapped him then. "Look, we can find a way to make it work."

I took another very deep breath, trying desperately to withhold my temper and doing a bloody terrible job. "It won't be at Christmas. Nothing you say will convince me. Fucking sue me for all I care. Fucking drop our band from the fucking label and say goodbye to us and never look back because _screw you_, Guy. We aren't going to _find a way to make it work_ with bringing a _baby_ on tour. That's fucking ridiculous and you're an complete pillock for even suggesting it. And by the way," I added, unable to let it go, unable to let him think that the way he spoke to me was in any way acceptable for a human being to talk to another human being when he knew _nothing_. "Go to hell. You have… _no_ right to—"

"Jesus Christ, I'm tempted to kiss you just to shut you up."

My words died in my throat and I froze. I frowned, and in my astonishment, temporarily forgot my anger.

"What?"

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked. I gaped.

"What are you—?"

"I knew that would shut—"

"I'm leaving!" I stood up abruptly, completely caught off guard by what was happening, completely and utterly confused about the turn things had taken and bewildered by the smirk on Guy's face as he leaned back casually in his chair, watching all of my movements like a hawk, like a stupid, arrogant, dickhead hawk. I couldn't even think clearly. What was he—why—I couldn't even—

I grabbed my cardigan, threw it around my shoulders, and grabbed the handles of Leo's pram as non-aggressively as I could in my current state. "I am—oh my god—I'm _leaving_."

He was laughing at me. I was trying to run away and he was laughing at me, and I was ignoring him because he wasn't going to do this to me. He wasn't going to confuse me and get inside my head and—_my GOD—_I hated him! I was strong. He wasn't going to rattle me. _I am strong._

"I'll call you next week to hammer out the details." Guy called as I was storming away.

I threw him two fingers.

* * *

Leo had an absolute hold on a chunk of my hair.

I laughed at him, making him smile—making my heart melt—and then I lifted him up and moved him to the swing that was wedged in between the couch and the chair, which were at a ninety degree angle to each other.

"Hold on, little man," I said before I dashed into my bedroom.

When I came out, I sat on the arm of the chair and faced him, placing my ukulele properly in my arms.

The doctor had told me that a good way to bond with Leo would be to sing to him, and he was lucky because it just so happened that his mother was a professional musician.

I wasn't at all trying to distract myself before Scorpius came over. Nope, not one bit. Why would I need to do that? And I wasn't trying to distract myself from the confusing, frustrating, ridiculous conversation I had had with Guy earlier. I wasn't trying to get his stupid voice and that stupid smirk out of my head. I hadn't been going back and forth thinking about that conversation and the conversation that was about to come with Scorpius for the past five hours. No. I wasn't doing that.

I started to play, and Leo watched me, seemingly mesmerized, while I played one of the first songs that I had ever learned on my ukulele.

"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, and the dreams that you dream of once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly and the dreams that you dream of dreams really do come true…"

"_So what kind of date are you going to take me on?" I curled into him on his bed._

_He arched an eyebrow briefly. "I have some ideas." _

"_You aren't going to tell me?" _

"_Where's the fun in that?" _

_I smiled and he brought his hand up to brush my cheek, making heat collect there. _

"_I love when you blush," he said, making me blush even harder. _

"_I love when you make me blush," I whispered. _

_He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You're beautiful," he said. _

"_Now you're just saying things on purpose to make me blush." _

_He laughed. "Maybe," he said. "But it's also true." _

_I giggled and buried my head into his chest. I felt something so warm and tingly uncurling in my chest as we laid there like that together, and I never wanted it to end. It felt beyond perfect—beyond anything. _

"_I just want to stay in this bed forever," I told him after looking back up at him. _

_He smiled. "I think you'd tire me out after a while." _

_I slapped his chest and shot him a look with narrowed eyes. "I wasn't talking about __**that**__," I said. He grinned. "I just meant here… you know… with you, just… being here. I don't know." _

_He put his arm around me tighter and held me close to him, looking down at me, his smile there but no longer teasing. "I know what you mean," he said. _

"_I can't even believe I'm here with you now," I said. _

_An adorable crease formed in between his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" _

_I laughed. "I just mean that not only are you my teacher but you're also the hottest, smartest, sexiest, most interesting guy I know." _

_He laughed. "Oh, I'm all that, am I?" _

_I nodded, faking seriousness. "Yes, quite." _

"_And you're the most beautiful, sexy, smart, funny, talented girl I know." _

_I blushed again, of course, and buried my face in his chest. I liked being buried there. He smelled incredible. _

_Scorpius then brought a hand down to my face and lifted it so I would look at him again. He was frowning. "You are, you know," he said. "All those things." _

_I just shook my head with a small smile, and tried to look away again but he held my chin in his hands. _

"_What did that guy do to you to make you think that you aren't all those things?" _

"_I…" my breath was caught in my throat, and I had to look away from him because his gaze was so intense, so full of things I couldn't place, couldn't begin to understand, but I couldn't say anything. I didn't know what to say—that Hadley had shredded my self-esteem to the point of nothingness after he cheated on me that the only way I could feel better was by being cruel to everyone who did anything even remotely bad to me? _

"_I'm serious, Rose," he said. _

"_What do you want to know?" I asked quietly. He was still holding my chin, but then he moved his hand up to cup my cheek and I leaned into his touch before he moved the hand back so he could run it through my hair. _

"_Why don't you think you're beautiful and smart and talented and everything else?"_

_I shrugged. "No one's ever really told me before." _

"_No one?" _

"_Well, besides my parents and Albus." _

_Scorpius smiled. "Well you are," he said, pulling me up by my upper arms so that he could kiss me. I maneuvered up and planted my lips onto his. "You're beautiful," he said before kissing me. "You're smart," another kiss, "you're funny," another, "you're talented," one more, "And you're very, __very sexy."_

"Someday I wish upon a star, wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where trouble melts like lemon drops, high above the chim-en-y tops, that's where you'll find me…"

"_But let me explain why you shouldn't be crazy, okay?" He gave a short nod and I went on. "I get it. I honestly understand why you got upset, but I'm telling you right now that the only thing that can come between us… is us. Hadley and I… Scorpius I wish you understood how completely that relationship is over. And I know you got scared because you saw how much what he does affects me, but I think the fact that we're friends now should show you how over it I am. I __can__ be friends with him because I don't hate him or want to get back at him or anything anymore. I don't have to do that because I have you. You matter to me more than anything."_

_Scorpius ran a hand down his face, and I noticed how he was slowly and steadily moving closer to me. I didn't even know if he was aware of it._

"_We've been able to keep this a secret for over a month," I continued. "We've been careful and we'll continue to be. That's not coming between us. And as for that girl—Marie?" He nodded and the space between us got smaller. My heart started thumping as it did every time he was close. "She wasn't willing to work at it. She didn't want to break through your exterior, but Scorpius, I do. I'm not going anywhere."_

_He was finally a little bit under a foot in front of me and he reached out to put a hand on my hip. Even though there was a layer of clothing separating our skin from touching, I ignited under his touch. _

"_I'm sorry, Rose," he said, his eyes averted from mine. "I'm sorry for the way I acted and I'm sorry for being an idiot and I'm so sorry for making you doubt how I feel about you."_

"_Scorpius—"_

"_I know I made you doubt it. You thought 'he can't mean it. He's drunk,' but I did. I meant it with all of my being. Rose, I love you. I can't… I know it seems crazy, but I feel like you and I… I think I was meant for you. I can't imagine being without you." _

"Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly, and the dreams that you dare to, oh why, oh why, can't I? Well I see trees of green and red roses, too. I'll watch them bloom for me and you, and I think to myself what a wonderful world…"

_He wasn't saying anything._

_He was looking at me with so many emotions in his gray eyes. He was on the floor with me, on his knees, holding me closely, looking down at me with concern and confusion and something else. I was looking at him, and my arms were trembling from my shoulder blades down to the tips of my fingers—always, the damn fingertips. He was holding me. And he felt so good. And he smelled like heaven. But I hated him. But __god__ he smelled so good. _

_His hand moved up so that he was cupping my face, looking down at me. My face burned and tingled where he touched me, and I hiccupped again as I felt a tear begin to escape. He reached up and brushed it away with his thumb. _

_I wanted to kiss him. _

_He was my professor and I hated him and I longed to punish him for what he'd done to me in the worst way possible, but I wanted to kiss him. No, I __**needed**__ to kiss him. His lips looked so soft, and he was being so tender, and he smelled so good, and his arms felt amazing around me. My heart was pounding, and the butterflies were flying so frantically in my stomach that I felt mildly nauseous._

_My eyes fluttered down to his mouth, and unconsciously, I licked my lips. _

_And then he leaned in and time stopped. _

_I couldn't decide—did he smell better or taste better? Because he tasted like the most amazing thing in the world. It was the sweetest kiss. His lips were gentle but slightly urgent, and he used his hand to tip my head back. I sighed into the kiss, and then his lips were nudging mine apart, and I acquiesced, allowing him to go deeper—wanting it more than anything. _

_I heard a quiet sound from his throat that was unmistakably a growl. And then everything changed._

_My hands dove into his hair and I pulled him closer, and his hands moved to my hips and pulled me up, gripping me tightly and making a quiet noise of approval as he did so. I was straddling him, and his tongue was twining with mine, and I couldn't think. It all felt too good. It was sweet. It was intense. _

_It was forbidden._

"Well I see skies of blue and I see clouds of white, and the brightness of day I like to dock, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world. The colors of rainbow so pretty in the sky, I also want the faces of people passing by. I see friends shaking hands, saying 'how do you do?' They're really saying 'I love you…'"

_I held my breath when the doctor walked in, knowing that no matter what she said, I was going to have a reaction and that reaction was going __**mean**__ something and if—_

"_You're pregnant," she said, smiling. "Congratulations." _

_I exhaled, grinning. _

"_Seriously?"_

_The doctor laughed. "Seriously."_

_I huffed out a laugh and then frowned and then went back to smiling, and I experienced about a thousand emotions at once, all of which seemed to conflict—shock, happiness, crushing fear, among them. _

_I was pregnant. _

"_I'm pregnant."_

"_Do you want to see a picture?"_

_I looked at her, feeling out of my body. "Do you—?"_

_She smiled at me and handed me a sheet of polaroid paper. I glanced down and gasped. I couldn't even tell what I was seeing—it was just a black and white blob of nothing, really—but it was the most incredible black and white blob of nothing I had ever seen. _

"_Holy shit," I whispered. _

_The doctor laughed again. "Were you trying?" she asked conversationally. _

"_No," I said, not taking my eyes off of the picture. _

"_Oh," she said. "But this is a happy surprise?" she asked cheerily. _

_I wasn't even surprised when I whispered, "Yes."_

"I hear babies cry and I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than we'll know, and I think to myself 'what a wonderful world…'"

"_Nate proposed to Lucy." _

_Scorpius's eyes opened, and he looked at me with a grin. "That's awesome."_

"_Yeah," I said happily. Nate had told the rest of us that he planned on doing it soon, and I was unbelievably excited that Nate was going to be a part of my family. He was perfect for my absent-minded cousin. "She wants to keep it small so it'll probably be soon. I'll probably be a bridesmaid." _

_That made Scorpius's grin widen. "I can't wait to see you in the ghastly thing she picks out for you." _

_I leaned over and nudged him with my shoulder. "Jerk." _

_His grin turned into a smirk. "So do they know when at all?"_

_I shrugged. "No. I'm just guessing it'll be soon. Maybe September." _

"_Whoa," he said, raising his eyebrows. "That is soon. It's April." _

"_Well, I don't know," I said. "But will you be my date, whenever it is?" I shot him a coy smile._

_Something flashed in his eyes. It was the same look I saw earlier when I told him he could stay with me tonight. The look should have worried me, but it didn't too much. Scorpius had always been moody like that. _

"_Of course." _

"Someday I'll wish upon a star, wake up where the clouds are far behind me. Where trouble melts like lemon drops high above the chim-en-y tops, that's where you'll find me. Oh, somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, and the dreams that you dare to, why, oh why, can't I?"

I put down my uke, shaken and raw from the last thing I was thinking about. I stood up and picked up Leo, who was now sleeping—content with the world around him and totally at peace—and moved to take him into the other room. When I got there, I placed him gently in his camp bed, smoothed back his hair, and fell more in love with him. I flipped on the baby monitor and moved back into the sitting room, my mind immediately going back to Scorpius.

I should have seen it all—_then_—but I had been too blinded with love and lust and longing and how intensely I had missed him to really take in the warning signs. He'd blinded me, taken me by surprise, broken my heart, shattered me, left me in pieces, turned away without looking back, and for the life of me I couldn't imagine taking anything back. The pain, the hurt, the sadness, the aching, the longing, it was all worth it because Scorpius Malfoy had made me the happiest woman in the universe for a year and a half. There isn't a thing I would do to take back any of it. I wanted those memories. I wanted the pain as well as the happiness because everything taught me who I was and what I wanted, and what I wanted—

The buzzer on my door sounded, and I jumped. I walked over to the buzzer and pressed the door button to let him up. I walked to the mirror hanging next to my door, and the woman in front of me looked flushed and nervous and exhausted. But I had washed my hair and it was hanging in lose waves, longer than it had ever been in my life, and it was pulled to one side, hanging in front of me. I tried to smile, but it looked forced so I opted for the deer-in-headlights look that came naturally.

I opened the door and there he was, fist suspended in mid-air, looking gorgeous and perfect and like everything I had ever wanted or dreamed of. And then he spoke, and even that one word devastated and shook me to my core.

"Hi."

* * *

_A/N: Hi... Sorry for the cliffy! But it will be worth it I hope! Thank you so much to all of those who are reviewing, and thanks to those are reading but keeping their thoughts hidden from my anxious eyes. I love reading your feedback and your ideas and your thoughts about everything and where you want everything to go. I truly hope that I can do all of you justice. Please please please keep letting me know what you think and I will keep giving you all the feels you crave. xxxxx._


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